Hogwarts, a Cat and a Bad Year
by arkhamite
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts after the War and everything seems to just get worse. Then a silver tabby shows up on her window sill and things get complicated. Themes include: depression, ptsd, complicated love, parasuicidal behaviours, slightly altered backstories
1. Cat on the Window Sill

Yeah, shoddy summary is shoddy, I know.  
>So, this is intended to become romantic between the two greatest witches of their times (and eventually become 'M' rated). I started writing this intending for it to be a (long) oneshot, but whataya know, it wants to have at least a few chapters. ^^<br>I'm open for suggestions (or anyone wanna be my Beta Reader?) and reviews.

**Disclaimers**: I feel dopey telling you I don't own Harry Potter because it's kind of obvious. Why would I be writing shoddy fanfics if I had billions of dollars from writing the real thing? Seriously. 

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>:  
>The Cat at the Window<p>

-/-

The first time she had met the cat was at the beginning of her seventh year at Hogwarts. Hermione had been reading in her private Head-Girl quarters when there was a scratching at the window. She had believed it to be an owl from Harry or Ron (who had decided not to finish their schooling after the war) and so had taken her time to put her book away properly. When she finally did go to the window, she was shocked to find a cat perched precariously on the sill, scratching and mewing with determination. Hermione quickly let the creature into her room, peering out for a moment in wonder. _How on earth did it get up here?_ She wondered. Her room was incredibly high up and other than the window sill there was no ledge for the animal to have crawled along.

When she turned back to examine the cat, it had made itself quite at home on her bed, sitting with its tail wrapped around itself and staring at her from the foot of her bed. Hermione tried to let the animal out of her room to roam the rest of the castle, but when she called to it, not knowing its name, the stubborn thing cocked its head to the side and then turned away. Not really minding the animal, she let it sit where it was and retrieved her book from the desk to continue reading.

After just a few quiet minutes, she peered over the top of the book to look at the cat which hadn't moved since she lay down, but when their eyes met, it moved gracefully to the pillow beside her and mewed. Hermione stroked the tabby, determining it was female and tried to think of a name, but every time she tried one out it just didn't sit right with her. In the end the cat remained The Cat and she resumed reading to herself while the cat curled beside her head.

The cat stayed in her bed the night it first appeared, but when Hermione woke in the morning it was gone again, as if it had never been there. How it got out was just as mysterious as how it had gotten onto the sill. Both the door and the windows of her room had been shut and locked, but Hogwarts had many mysteries and in comparison, the strange tabby cat was nothing.

-/-

It became a regular thing for Hermione to find the cat scratching at her window, let it in and read or study with it sitting nearby. At first it was a very stern looking thing, forest green eyes watching her from far away, almost studiously. It let her pet it if she approached, and when she got ready for bed it would trot around, looking at things and then curl next to her, but it never seemed to behave too affectionately.

After a couple of weeks, the silver tabby had become more accustomed to sitting on Hermione's lap, purring while she stroked it and seeming to listen when she read aloud. Unlike Crookshanks, it never sat on her parchment while writing, didn't scratch or bite her things and seemed to know exactly when Hermione needed to concentrate. She came to adore the animal, and even though there were times when it didn't show up for days and days, she didn't disbelieve for a moment that it shared similar feelings.

While she felt silly at first, Hermione would talk to the cat like an old friend, and loved that it listened with its head cocked to one side. She liked that it never interrupted her, never chided her for being so involved in her studies and when she was upset, it didn't hesitate to rub its body against her. Even though her two best friends were far away and the friends she still had at Hogwarts were more interested in Quidditch (in Ginny's case) and chasing imaginary creatures (in Luna's), she didn't feel lonely with the strange cat.

-/-

After a few months it was nearing Christmas and Hermione became more and more withdrawn from the few friends she had. Even her teachers were beginning to worry, but she wouldn't let anyone too close. As she became more introverted, staying and studying in her room or library every minute that she wasn't in class or sleeping, the tabby's visits became so frequent that it was with her, not just at night, but in the mornings and even sat by her in the library at times.

She told the cat everything that was bothering her that she didn't tell anyone else. To protect them during the war, Hermione had wiped her own parents' memories and given them new identities. They now lived somewhere in Australia, and she didn't even know where. The up-coming Christmas would be spent not knowing where they were and not knowing what she would do. There wasn't even a war to preoccupy her from it. She had started to cry once she had unloaded her worries, and the cat let her hug it like a child's toy. When she finally finished sobbing, the compassionate creature carefully slipped from her arms and stood on her chest, licking away her tears with its rough tongue until she couldn't help but laugh.

Things went from bad to worse for Hermione. Her grades were as high as ever, but she hardly ever saw her friends, had lost more weight than would be healthy and could only sleep through the night with the tabby lying beside her. It was the dreams- the nightmares. The explosions and the lights and colours and the screams. It was a private war that roared in her mind every time she was alone and closed her eyes. Then she got the letter.

It wasn't a long letter, but it took Hermione at least ten minutes to read it, and for what it said to register in her mind. Ron. He didn't think he could do this. By 'this' he meant a relationship that involved such a long distance. 'It's not your fault, but it's not mine either,' he had said. It certainly sounded like it was her fault. It was her fault for coming back to Hogwarts and not being a house-wife like he wanted. It was her fault for not visiting the Burrow every weekend and every opportunity. It was her fault for not writing often enough. It was her fault.

Of course when the cat returned that night, Hermione read it to her and the animal was as caring as a cat could be, lending her its warmth, licking her, rubbing against her. "At least I have you," she whispered into the silver fur, "and I don't even know your name." The cat meowed loudly at that.


	2. Taking Care

**A/N:** I know that McGonagall's animagus has spectacle-like markings around its/her eyes, however, I'm working under the assumption that if she transformed while not wearing her glasses (since it's never been mentioned precisely how they transfer to fur markings) she might not have the markings. And would probably be a short-sighted cat. I made the change because otherwise it'd be a bit too easy for Hermione to recognise her, amirite? ^^

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>  
>Taking Care<p>

-/-

It was the day before most of the Hogwarts students were due to leave for Christmas break. The number of students had already dramatically reduced from early leavers, and Hermione was sitting at the back of the Great Hall, mixing now-cold porridge around in its bowl. There had been no classes for the last few days, no homework, no study, and nothing for her to use to distract herself from all the negative things that seemed to be happening to her. With her head leaning in a hand, she barely noticed the clacking of heels approaching her or the tall shadow that now fell over her. She was too busy just being depressed to notice the tall, stern looking woman behind her.

Headmistress McGonagall cleared her throat and Hermione jumped in her seat, looking up with surprise, "Oh, hello, Professor," she said sullenly.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you." The older woman did not seem convinced.

"Miss Granger, would you accompany me to the transfiguration classroom, as you don't seem to be eating?"

The young brunette just nodded, pushing her untouched breakfast away before standing.

The two of them walked in silence, relatively unnoticed by the general population of the school. Minerva looked the exact same as she had seven years ago, and maybe even twenty years ago; her hair was in its tight bun, up out of her stern, dignified face, her emerald robe hung loosely around her tall, thin frame and she held herself proudly as always. Hermione easily looked many years older than she should. Her own hair was an unkempt brown mess of curls, she was pale and grim looking, and her jeans and robes seemed sizes too big, though they were the very same ones that had been snug two years ago.

When they arrived at their destination, the headmistress let them in and locked the door with a flick of her wand. Not knowing what to do with herself, the younger woman walked slowly towards the front of the room idly until her teacher strode past and indicated for her to sit at the front desk.

"Professor, if this is about my last essay," Hermione said, already beginning to stress, "I worked very hard on it, but I couldn't find enough references to-" she was cut off by the other.

"Please, Hermione, I don't wish to talk to you as your professor, or your headmistress," Minerva's voice was much softer than expected, and sitting across from Hermione, she placed a warm hand over the other's. "I want to talk to you as a friend. You've been through so much, and I've seen you handle at least two devastating disasters every year you've attended Hogwarts. I always respected and admired you for being able to hold your own and handle even the most difficult situations, but there is always a line." She paused to let the eighteen year old soak in what she was saying. "There is only so much one person can handle by themselves, and I'm very afraid that you have, or are getting close to that point when everything gets too much. Do you agree?"

Hermione nodded mutely, tears stinging the edges of her eyes. She had tried so hard to deal with everything, but now that all the excitement was over she had to face the problems that had hidden themselves behind running from and fighting with death eaters. There wasn't even Harry to talk to. Just the tabby cat.

"Hermione, your friends are very concerned about you. I am concerned about you. It's become painfully obvious that you aren't coping."

"But I am," Hermione said louder than anticipated, "I'm coping fine. My grades are the best, see?"

Minerva's eyes glistened with compassion and she squeezed the girl's hands with her own. "No, Hermione, you've thrown yourself into your work so much that nothing else seems to matter. That isn't coping. Ginny Weasley tells me you haven't spoken more than two words to either her or Luna in a month, and that she thinks it's because of Ronald." Hermione sobbed loudly and the professor moved closer and placed a hand on the girl's back, rubbing circles. "You haven't been eating, I don't think you've even left the castle. You have to take care of yourself, and that means letting other people in, too."

There was a long moment where she didn't speak, but Hermione leaned into her and wrapped her arms around the older woman's waist while she cried on her shoulder. Minerva was patient, and waited until the girl seemed prepared to sit up again. When chocolate eyes met her green pair, she had to resist the urge not to lick the tear tracks away like she had weeks before.

"Hermione, I'd like for you to start eating your meals with me. Dinner, at least, in my quarters. I'd like for you to talk to me and tell me what is on your mind, or if you like, you can just talk about your day, or what books you've been reading and whatever music you listen to. Will you do that, Hermione?"

Wiping her eyes dry, Hermione nodded and straightened her white blouse which had become crinkled while embracing her teacher.

Satisfied, Minerva smiled gently and pushed a few strands of wayward hair from Hermione's face and thanked her softly. She had an important staff meeting to attend to about the resident centaurs, but she was reluctant to leave. Already she had missed many conferences, functions and dinners because of nights that she hadn't wanted to leave the Head Girl alone in her room.

After a couple more minutes, they both stood to leave and Minerva gave the girl a light hug before reopening the doors and heading towards her meeting. Once she finished, she knew that she could find the girl in the library as usual and she could sit beside Hermione on the table and lick her paws.


	3. Dinner

**A/N:** A dozen appologies for this taking so long. Things have been... bizarre with moving and Christmas and blah blah story. 

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<br>**Dinner

-/-

When Hermione returned to her room after classes were over and the library had closed, there was a note waiting for her on her desk, the first place she would notice. Before she picked it up, she hesitated, fingers lingering for a moment. She wasn't sure who it was from, and did not know how it got in here, unless someone had snuck in. If someone had broken into her room, should she be worried?

After a few moments, she finally picked it up and unfolded it to be met by familiar, swirling script. It was from Professor McGonagall, of course, and was quite simply written.

'Dinner is at 7:00pm in my chambers. The password is Bumblebee. Thank you for accepting.' It was simply signed, M. M.

With a sigh, Hermione folded the short letter back in half and replaced it on her desk the way she found it before looking at the clock. Six-thirty. Bugger.

She quickly changed from her school uniform into a pair of black pants and a black turtleneck skivvy. Brushing her hair into a bun and pocketing the few things, she left her chambers by six-fifty-five at a quick stride.

-/-

Hermione arrived at the gargoyle that stood before the Headmistress's office with barely a second to spare. She knew that Mcgonagall didn't put up with tardiness and despite the more casual setting didn't want to give any reason to be scolded. Shooting up the winding stairs, she stopped to lean against the door and catch her breath.

Minerva knew that her guest had arrived and didn't need magic to detect her outside the door- her heavy breathing was perfectly audible to her animagus ears. When the girl finally entered (after knocking, of course) her face lightened with delight at what her teacher had done.

The round office was lined with roof-reaching bookshelves and colored with the various house colours and the portraits of various ex-head masters watched her with interest and kindness, but what really caught her attention was that where the headmistress's desk should be a long, luxurious table stood. A decorative silk cloth was draped over it and shone with magic, colors changing in the light like mother of pearl. Two high-backed chairs with upholstery of the same color sat either side of the table that was laden with dishes, just like in the great hall. The room was even lit with floating candles and the fireplace remained unlit. All of the colors were brightened even further by the flickering lighting. It was extremely beautiful.

After she had finished ogling the room, Hermione turned her attention to Minerva who was standing at one end of the table. Like the room, she seemed to have transformed. Her usual green, black colors and tartan patterns were gone, as were the heavy robes that she wore around the castle. Her dress was long and flowed to her feet, and the blue waves seemed to move like the ocean in the candle light. Her arms and most of her neck were still covered (which seemed to be one thing that hadn't changed), but with her curves and angles accentuated better, the effect on Hermione was equal to if she was wearing a short halter-neck.

"Wow," Hermione couldn't stop herself from gushing, "you look…" She paused, realizing she was gawking and tried to hide her blush as she attempted to correct herself. "Your office looks amazing like this."

With her lips curled slightly, Minerva thanked her and pulled out a chair for Hermione to sit in before moving to her own.

It wasn't difficult for the perceptive woman to know that the younger girl was watching her, but she ignored it until she was sitting comfortably. A few more moments and she looked directly at Hermione and raised an eyebrow, "You understand that by asking you to have dinner, the point was that you would eat."

Hermione's attention was brought back to where she was. For a few moments she was too enthralled by the difference in her mentor. She couldn't help but wonder why it was that for all these years she had never entertained the thought of Minerva wearing anything else; of looking less like a professor and just a woman. Even though they had always been close as teacher and student and together had faced many different situations, there were very few moments that Hermione would have thought as Minerva as a friend (or that the woman could consider her student one). This year so many things had changed, and the Gryffindor's views of people were changing with it.

After a few more moments of the professor's watching, Hermione served herself a small amount of salad and a slice of turkey. She wasn't hungry, and hadn't had much of an appetite for a while. Seemingly satisfied, the older woman chose her own meal and began to eat, occasionally lifting her eyes to make sure that Hermione was as well.

There was a bit of small talk, about quidditch (which Hermione wasn't that interested in), classes, but when Mcgonagall asked what she planned for the holiday break, Hermione looked down at her plate where the remaining salad was chased by her fork in circles. There was a pregnant pause before she replied, "I don't know." It took her a few moments to properly gather her thoughts, but she finally explained when she felt that the emerald eyes weren't going to leave hers. "I obliviated my parents' memories and sent them to Australia during the war and I don't know where they are now. If there was more time I'd find them again, but I don't think I could do that in just two weeks." She wiped her eyes which were starting to cloud again but persisted, swearing she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying in front of her favorite teacher again. "Normally I'd go to the Burrow, but I can't do that now. I don't want to see Ron, not yet." She sighed, "So I guess I'll be staying here by myself."

Minerva nodded, "I know it's not the same as being with your friends and family, but you're more than welcome to visit me anytime. It'd be nice to have company for Christmas for once." At the offer and comment, Hermione had to wonder about her mentor's life outside of Hogwarts.

"Don't you spend Christmas with your family?" she enquired a tad shyly- the woman was known for being a private person.

The Scottish lilt wasn't laced with any emotion, "I don't have any family to speak of. My Christmases are spent here like every other night." She didn't mention that until he died Dumbledore was her usual companion on holidays. It hurt to talk about it still and she missed him very much. She'd even felt lonely at times like Christmas.

Hermione said a simple, "Oh," and nothing else. They ate a gelatin desert in quiet before Hermione suggested she leave to study before bed. Minerva agreed, and reminded her to return the next night at the same time.

It was surprising for the girl to realize when she returned to her dorm that she had spent two and a half hours in the company of the other woman. She didn't know whether to look forward to or dread the next dinner, but barely noticed that the tabby failed to appear at her window that night.


	4. Saying Farewell

The next two weeks became routine. On week days Hermione would finish classes, study and have dinner with Minerva and weekends she would study and eat with the rest of the school. She was embarrassed to tell Ginny where she was most of the time, not because she was spending it with a teacher, but because she was beginning to enjoy it. The tabby cat wasn't around as often, and Hermione supposed that was because she wasn't there to let it in most nights, but when she was at her lowest, the creature always seemed to know and be there for her. She confided that she was enjoying her teacher's company and that seemed to please the cat who rubbed its head up under her chin.

School was coming to an end for the semester and Hermione was confused about how she felt. She was just as depressed as before, but at least she knew she wasn't as alone as she had originally believed. Now she had Minerva. Even though Ginny, Luna and the rest of the student body would be leaving for the holidays tomorrow, the Gryffindor was able to dull the loneliness by thinking about sitting with McGonagall and what she'd get the headmistress for Christmas. Maybe she could even introduce the tabby (which was now purring contentedly on her lap) to the woman who she knew loved felines.

-/-

The day for the students to depart for the holidays came quickly, and while most of them were excited to be leaving, Hermione's friends Luna and Ginny felt worried about her.

"Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?" Ginny asked again. She had wanted Hermione to go home with her, brother be damned, but Mrs Weasley hadn't thought that to be a very good idea even if she did love the girl.

"I'll be fine," Hermione answered. She didn't sound so sure- she sounded tired and snappy, but Ginny had grown used to it.

"You could always come home with me. We could make ornaments to keep the Santa Claus at bay." Luna had offered a dozen times, but Hermione didn't think she could face Mr Lovegood again. Not yet anyway.

"I can't, Luna. You know why."

"My father is sorry, you know." Luna said, hurt.

Hermione sighed. "I know, but I'm just not comfortable with spending a week with him."

Ginny and Luna shared a look that irritated Hermione, but she didn't say anything.

"What will you do?" Ginny knew the answer but felt she had to ask.

"Study. I'll be okay, really. Some of the teachers will still be here so I won't be completely alone."

She tried to persuade them she would be okay, but even she wasn't so sure of that. She didn't feel fine, but she refused to admit it.

The head carriage driver announced they were leaving and Ginny and Luna boarded their carriage. Hermione said farewell to her friends as the thestrals began to pull away from the castle gates. Watching until they disappeared from sight, she let herself sigh, wrapping her arms around her waist to combat the cold and the sudden isolation she hadn't expected to rattle her. Even though she didn't spend as much time with the other students, knowing they were there if she really needed them had kept her anchored.

"Hermione." Minerva's familiar, warming lilt was welcoming and friendly. The girl turned to face the woman who seemed much warmer in her knitted layers.

Hermione smiled, genuinely glad to see her. "You came to say goodbye to everyone," she said.

"Of course. Hogwarts feels too quiet without the students in it."  
>"I thought they said they were too noisy," Hermione pointed out.<p>

"They are, but it's nice to have them around. They make the castle feel more alive." They both looked at the tall, dark building. It did seem more daunting than usual and not nearly as cheerful.

They began to walk back, their feet crunching in the thick layer of snow. Hermione slid on a patch of ice and McGonagall offered her arm. The girl was pleasantly surprised to find just how warm it was close to her teacher's thin frame and almost huddled against the icy breezes. She was so comfortable and so at home that she felt herself relaxing.

As they walked their spattering of conversation turned towards past Christmases. They spoke about the holidays Hermione had gone on with her parents and McGonagall told her about the comfort of spending the holiday with Dumbledore, who had been as close to family as anything. The teenager fell silent, filled with the regret that she wouldn't even have her substitute family (the Weasleys) this year.

"Even if I can't see my parents, I wish I could be with Harry on Christmas. But he'll be with them and I'll be here." Her teeth chattered. "It's not fair."

"There's a lot that isn't fair." Answered McGonagall. "Hermione, why don't you spent Christmas at my home? It won't be as cheery as the Weasley's, but at least we won't be alone."

The offer startled Hermione who didn't answer immediately. She had never heard of anyone being invited to MacGonagall Manor. She hesitated for a moment, but didn't need to think about the answer.

"Okay," she said surely, "I'd love to."

Minerva nodded with just a slight curve to her lips although inside she was beaming.


	5. Gift Shopping and Bad Dreams

There was a week until Christmas. A week to buy presents from Hogsmead, a week of dining casually with her teacher, a week to decide what to wear, and a week to realize that the tabby was still visiting her. It had been a while since she had starting thinking about it as hers, but now it was clear that it mustn't have belonged to any of the students, all of whom had left the school. Either it was a teacher's pet, or travelled from Hogsmead every time it visited. She asked the cat where it came from, but as expected, it didn't answer.

She was technically free to go to Hogsmead at any time now that she was eighteen, but it still made Hermione nervous to leave the school grounds without being escorted by a teacher. It occurred to her that this was ridiculous considering all the bizarre field trips she had made with Harry and Ron, and even the year travelling all over Britain while hunting horcruxes. But this wasn't sneaking through a secret tunnel or under the invisibility cloak with a couple of friends. She was just strolling through the front gate and apparating, expecting a siren to go off or for someone to point her out as a student by herself. When she popped into the Three Broomsticks, no one did, of course, but she couldn't help but feel as though people were watching her with scrutinizing eyes. Did they know who she was? What she had done? Were some of them death eaters just last year? She didn't have any answers, even though a nagging voice in the back of her mind (the same one that told her she wasn't good enough, and that she was going to fail at leading an ordinary life) tormented her with the thought that yes, they were waiting to catch her off guard.

Hermione politely greeted the several people who stopped her to say hello. She only knew a few of them, but since the war she had become relatively known alongside her friends. It made her anxious when they wanted her to stay and talk because she didn't like turning them down, but she excused herself and scurried away. Later she would have to ask Harry if she could borrow his invisibility cloak to make things less nerve-racking.

Tugging her thick coat around her body to shield against the cold weather, she trudged through the mushy snow and peered into each shop window. For Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna she got some little things from Honeydukes and Zonko's but she didn't know what to get for Professor McGonagall. Truly she didn't know whether she should buy anything at all, but she had grown very fond of the woman and wanted to show her appreciation.

After a couple of miserable hours Hermione slumped into a seat in the darkest corner of the Three Broomsticks. A steamy mug of butterbeer warmed her hands, but she hadn't lifted the free drink to her lips. A paper bag with her gifts sat in the other chair and she stared at it with annoyance. Why couldn't she find anything suitable? There was a book on the history of quidditch, but she thought the teacher would already have it. She could buy some candy, but she didn't know if the professor even liked it. Jewelry would be too personal, and nothing else was nice enough. She sighed in frustration, sliding down her chair. Why did this mean so much to her? She didn't know.

Once her mug grew cold Hermione made another quick tour of Hogsmead. This time she stopped when she saw a beautiful collar that she just had to buy. It was white like a pearl but shone gold in certain light, reminding Hermione of sun sets over icy mountains. It was a little pricy (because it would perfectly fit any animal from a mouse to a dragon according to the label) but she wanted it badly.

She apparated back to the castle gates and wandered through the school's grounds, kicking the snow-mush and catching flakes on her tongue. Hogwarts was beautiful in the winter but eerily quiet with no one around. Getting weary, she sat on a cold bench by the partially frozen lake and wondered how the merpeople dealt with the cold. The cool air kissed her cheeks and her jumper hugged her, urging her thoughts to turn to dreams and she quickly dozed off.

Hermione woke with a jolt, not knowing where she was for a moment. She was freezing cold and it was very dark. Her body shivered violently and as she groped for her wand her hand brushed over a warm lump beside her. Lumos lit her immediate surroundings, casting shadows all around her. Her familiar feline companion had bitten her left hand which had startled her awake. "Oh, kitty. What are you doing out here?" She asked as she scratched behind its ear. The cat looked up at her with its forest green eyes and meowed loudly. It leaped down from its seat and shook off the white fluff that had settled on its silver-black fur and gave a long, urging look in Hermione's direction before skittering off in the direction of the castle. It was late and Hermione gathered her things before following the cat, keeping an eye out for it as she hurried.

By the time she had dropped the bag of gifts off in her room and rushed to the headmistress's office it was almost 7:40 but she hoped that her teacher wouldn't be angry. She was still shivering when she entered the low lit chamber. The fireplace had a hearty flame in the hearth that drew her forward with its welcoming warmth. Professor McGonagall was just getting up from the armchair she had been sitting in, a book now replacing her body.

"I was beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten, Miss Granger." If she was annoyed or disappointed her voice didn't show it.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I fell asleep." Hermione was embarrassed by her tardiness and kept her eyes on the floor.

"Well, you're here now, so come and sit down so we can eat."

Hermione sat near the fire and as they ate hot pumpkin soup she told the professor about her day, leaving out the dilemma she faced over the one gift. McGonagall listened like always and when her student was done she raised her plan for Christmas. In three days they would apparate to McGonagall Manor and stay until New Year's Eve before returning to the school. It would be a mini-vacation in Scotland.

Outwardly Hermione was excited about the prospect of spending Christmas with her teacher, but at the same time she felt as if she were betraying her parents by being happy. After what she had done to them she shouldn't be able to enjoy herself, she ought to be devoting every spare moment she had to finding them. _But what if they're happier without me?_ The idea shooting through her like the crucius curse. Would it be wrong to force herself back into their lives after she sent them halfway around the world? The contradiction tore at her heart and mind and Minerva perceived distress in her student and friend.

"Hermione, is there something wrong?" The woman put her spoon down and peered through her spectacles.

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

"Miss Granger, I don't appreciate being lied to."  
>"Nor do I appreciate being called a liar," Hermione retorted harshly to both of their surprise. The professor banished her plate and folded her hands before her, waiting patiently for an explanation. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just worried about my parents."<p>

"The holidays will be hard, but you'll find them again. I'm certain of your capabilities."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I have school, but I should be out there, but then again they might be better off without me. It's so confusing." She was exhausted. It took so much energy for her just to get out of bed in the mornings, courage to walk through the streets, and strength to hold her body up and with the thoughts and worries piling on top of her she felt as if she was going to break. "I just need rest."

"We'll work something out. We have all the time in the world, and I won't make you do this on your own, and neither will your friends. It will work out in the end."

The younger witch felt the need to argue that she couldn't know it would be fine, that it wasn't anyone's responsibility but hers, but after the day she'd had all of her energy was reserved for getting back to bed.

"Would you mind if I went to be early tonight? I've had a rough day."

"Of course."

McGonagall stood and walked the girl to the door, a hand placed reassuringly on her back. They said goodbye before Hermione left, trudging sullenly to her room with those thoughts dragging behind her like weights. It seemed like forever before she reached her bed and she collapsed into it, kicking only her shoes off and laying an arm over her face. Tears breached the limits of her eyes and fell, not because she was sad or angry, just because she needed to give in a little and stop fighting.

She felt a weight bounce beside her on the bed and the familiar warm body of the cat curled beside her, purring softly. With a relieved sob she turned onto her side and wrapped her arms around it before falling quickly into a shallow sleep.

Hermione dreamed she was running. Her feet slammed into a ground that grabbed at her at her ankles with the hands of Grindilow. She was trying to find the horcrux, but the sword of Gryffindor was too large, too cumbersome for her to carry and it grew heavier with each sucking step until she realized that the horcrux she was chasing was behind her. It slithered with the speed of a racing, trackless train. The hissing was like the sound of a train whistle and when she finally had the courage to face what she feared… her hands were empty. She looked around for it desperately, but knew with every ounce in her body that she wasn't brave enough to truly wield the sword of Gryffindor. Only true heroes had that right and she was nothing in the shadow of Harry and Ron. She could hear them laughing at her as the serpent raised its ugly face and she looked into its horrid, gleaming eyes. It was the basilisk from her second year and she was paralyzed. Nobody knew of the terror of not being able to move, speak or even indicate that you are alive. Nobody knew of the nightmares that plagued you when you were stuck half way between sleep and consciousness. She fell backward and landed on the floor of the Malfoys' mansion and struggled to fight the snake-turned-woman towering over her. The knife glinted in her hand before piercing Hermione with a burning intensity that matched the penetrating, gleeful masochism of Belatrix Lestrange.

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat only a few hours after she had fallen into the seemingly unending nightmare. The cat was still nestled on a pillow and she pulled the tabby to her and held the dozing creature in her arms. She couldn't sleep with the horrors lurking in the depths of her subconscious.


	6. The Attack

"What are you going to do about your parents?"

Hermione gave a start at the question which had come from nowhere. They had both finished their meals and the plates had vanished magically, replaced with sticky date pudding. Her spoon dropped back into the bowl and she stared at it for several moments.

"I don't know."

"Are you going to find them?" McGonagall continued to eat, watching as her student struggled with her thoughts.

"I want to, but I can't."

"Why not, dear?"  
>"They could be anywhere, I don't know where to start. And I don't have the time, and it's too big a job for me, and…" she trailed off. The older woman reached across the table and patted her hand comfortingly.<p>

"And?"  
>"And… what if they're happy without me?"<p>

How could she take them away from a life she had forced them into if they were happy? It was hard to imagine that even if she did manage to find them and could reverse her spell that they would understand why she did what she did. All her life they loved her and cared for her and were so joyous when they found out that she'd been invited to Hogwarts. It was strange to them, but they accepted that she was a witch with the same love that she could expect coming out as a lesbian (in fact they often joked that she had come out of the broom closet). However, she never quite revealed to them the extremes of what would happen year to year. If they found out that by going to this school and being friends with Harry she was constantly putting herself in serious danger they never would have let her continue learning. So, she had kept them in the dark, and even if she gave them their memories back they wouldn't understand why. It'd just hurt them.

"Hermione, the happiness they feel in their new life is not true joy. Knowing that they've held their new born baby and dropped you off on your first day of school and remembering all the times they've seen you smile- that's what a parent's happiness is. If they're happy now, it is a lie and a part of them will know it. Besides, you need your mother and father more now than ever, and they would want to be there for you."

McGonagall squeezed Hermione's hand and the teenager looked at her, swallowing self-pity. The girl wondered how much this private woman knew about family. Did she have any children herself? Had she known those little joys she mentioned?

"But how can I find them?"

"You have many friends, dear, even if you don't realize it. Even if Ron and Harry aren't able to help, I promise I will. We will make a plan and you will be reunited with your family. I promise."

The promise was a big one, Minerva knew, because they couldn't even be sure that the Grangers were still alive and well in the same country, but it was important. She reminded herself that she did have contacts in Australia too, and the Australian Bureau of Sorcery would most likely be able to help. Together two of the greatest witches of their time could certainly complete this mission. Time was the only element that stood in their way.

Hermione was still uncertain when she left Professor McGonagall's office, but there was a small light of hope that at least she wouldn't be alone. She trudged from Headmaster's Tower towards Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor. It was dark enough that she needed to use magic to light the way and portraits woke long enough to chide her for it. She had only gone two floors when Nearly Headless Nick came barrelling from the direction of the library screaming, "There's been an attack! An attack on Hogwarts!" Startled, Hermione lost her footing on the stairs and slipped. She landed on the stairs, scraping her knees, but Nick kept coming and passed right through her.

"Nicholas, wait," she yelled as she pulled herself up, "what happened?"

He stopped as if surprised to see her and came back to her side. "In the library," he said, "the books are ruined, the walls a soaked: it's an attack." All around them the portraits murmured and yelled back.

Hermione's heart hammered in her chest. No one evil could have gotten into the school unnoticed, she was almost certain of that. The almost was the part that worried her. Her mind flickered to Bellatrix Lestrange and she felt fear rising like bile in her throat. She had to stay calm. To ground herself she gripped her wand as tight as she could and forced herself to breathe deep breaths.

"Was anyone hurt?" She asked.

"No," Nicholas answered.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No."

"Then it must have been Peeves." Hope loosened the tightness in her muscles.

A deep, frightening voice from behind her made her squeal in fright. "It wasn't Peeves." The Bloody Baron had emerged from the wall. "He's been in the Dungeons." Hermione shivered. She wasn't sure if it was because she was surrounded by bone-chilling ghosts or because she was afraid.

"Go get the headmistress," she murmured, hugging herself tight, "she'll know what to do."

As the ghosts floated through the floor, Hermione sat on the stairs and waited. She didn't want to go into the library alone if there was a chance a death eater was waiting. Could they have known she would be here alone? No, she told herself, no.

Minerva ran from her office the moment the Bloody Baron had arrived there and she appeared on the stairs shortly after. Seeing Hermione rocking slowly, she bent to put a hand on the young witch's shoulder. The girl was breathing short, shallow breaths.

"It's okay Hermione, you wait here," she said quietly.

"Don't leave me alone."

"I'll be right back."

Despite her fears Hermione got to her feet and grasped McGonagall's arm. "I'm coming with you," she said fiercely. Minerva just nodded and led the way to the library.

Inside it was a mess. Books had been torn apart and tossed around, the walls were covered in a wet goo that seemed be have come from the bottom of the lake and there was a message written in what seemed like blood on one of the bookshelves.

_I'm back._

Hermione stared around, eyes jutting to dark corners as if seeking out the person who did this, but McGonagall seemed to relax. They stood in silence for a minute when movement and yelling came from a hole where a wall used to be.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED, STUDENTS OUT OF BED," Filch roared. He stopped when he saw McGonagall he reached up as if searching for a hat to remove. "Professor. You caught one." He said, gladly.

"Filch, there are no students in the school other than Hermione, and she is with me." McGonagall seemed annoyed, "She certainly did not do this." She indicated towards the writing on the wall, making Filch turn.

His face went white. Whiter. He sputtered. "I'll kill them," he said under his breath before repeating it loudly, "I'll KILL THEM."

"You won't be killing anyone, Argus." Minerva managed to keep her head despite all of it. "Ask the portraits if they've seen anyone lurking around."

There were a couple of portraits just now poking their heads around their frames. They pulled back again when Filch glared their way. "Yes ma'am," he muttered.

"Come on, Hermione, I'll see you to the Fat Lady." Minerva said kindly and Hermione nodded. She had been quiet this entire time, but now she was glad she wouldn't have to walk the rest of the way alone.

They didn't speak much as they walked, but when they reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower McGonagall promised to tell her if anything came up. Hermione nodded and said goodnight before slipping inside. It had been a long night, but she couldn't sleep knowing there might be someone lurking in the castle waiting for her. When she finally drifted off she had nightmares about the different people who might want to hurt her.

-notes-

((editted))


	7. McGonagall Manor

((Thank you for the lovely reviews. Whenever I'm in the dumps I just open them up and feel a little better.  
>I received a question about why Hermione hasn't recognized McGonagall's animagus. In the books Minerva's cat form has white markings around her eyes like glasses, so for the purpose of the story I figured if she isn't wearing her glasses when she transforms, then her animagus wouldn't have the distinguishing mark. Onward!))<p>

On the last day before she was to join Professor Mcgonagall in Scotland, Hermione had a brainwave that gave her a buzz of pride. If she couldn't find her teacher a gift then she'd make one. It seemed silly that sitting in a magic castle she hadn't thought of it before. There were a lot of things she could create or transfigure, but to make it especially special she could use the spell she had come up with in one of her previous years and alter it for this occasion. Hermione needed to do a spot of research to make sure it was possible, so with a splash of enthusiasm that had been missing from her life she set off to the library, a jar and knitting essentials in hand. For five hours she read, tested, snuck through the forbidden section and scorched the desks in the library with zeal until she was certain that this present would last safely. Then she wrapped it up snugly in a box.

That night she packed her bag and tidied her room, leaving a knitted beanie on the floor even though she knew it would still be there when she returned. She had figured out that it was Dobbie who accepted all her little tokens, and this was a gift for the departed friend. Then she waited, hoping the tabby would show so that she could give it the collar. It never did and she fell asleep with the little box beside her on the bed, exhausted but happy with the day's work.

The next day Hermione slept in, managing almost six whole hours so she was well rested when she walked down to the library to pick out a book for light reading while she was away. On the way she ran into (or rather through) Nearly Headless Nick who stopped her to apologize for scaring her the other night. McGonagall had told her that the most likely cause of the disturbance was a new ghost that hadn't quite pulled itself together into a visible apparition. Its behavior suggested it was a poltergeist similar to Peeves and because of the timing it was probably killed during the Battle of Hogwarts the last year. An eavesdropping portrait of a little girl piped in that she had heard it was the soul of Lord Voldemort returned. This news sent a shiver down Hermione's spine even though she knew it couldn't be the evil wizard- his soul had been split into eight parts and all of it destroyed. He couldn't possibly be back as a ghost or any other form.

At three o'clock Hermione met the professor in her office. Minerva looked from the student to the purse she was carrying.  
>"Where's your bag? You're going to need clothes," she said. The brunette grinned and shook her purse, the contents moving noisily. "Ah, but of course." Hermione had used the undetectable extension charm while travelling with Harry and found it was easier than taking a suitcase.<p>

When they were both ready the older woman offered her elbow and Hermione linked their arms, holding tight in case she were to splint by accident. McGonagall patted her hand before the ground disappeared from under them and the familiar, but unsettling feeling of being sucked down the drain took over. Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the travel-sickness she always felt while apparating. At last their feet slammed into the ground and the girl lurched forward, held up only by her teacher's steady hold.

At the first, dizzy glance Hermione might have thought that she was still in the teacher's office because there were still roof-reaching bookshelves and a desk so similar to the one at the school, however there was no fire in this room, no school colors and the only portrait was that of Dumbledore. Instead, this circular room was decorated by the McGonagall coat of arms, which was green and gold, and a poster of the family tree, the bottom half apparently burnt off.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione curiously.

"In my home. This is my office. Follow me, I'll show you around quickly. I have things to put in order while you're settling in."

Minerva strode through the door into a hallway and proceeded to name rooms, her arm still entwined with Hermione's. They didn't enter any of the rooms in this part of the house, because as Minerva mentioned, they were mostly empty other than family heirlooms that seemed to move from room to room by themselves. In fact, she didn't know why, but rooms that had been chosen by someone long ago would change place so you couldn't find them again. It made storage quite a bother. Hermione wondered if most old wizarding houses did the same thing. After wandering around the top floor, Minerva opened a guest room and declared it to be Hermione's while she was staying and when the girl had put her small bag on a desk she pointed to the room two doors down. That was her bedroom, so if there was anything Hermione needed, that was where to go. Once they had toured the top floor the two witches went down to the ground floor and Hermione gawked at the size of it. It should have been impossible for the roof to be so high when the staircase wasn't nearly that long. But it was, and a fire was already blazing in front of two luxurious looking armchairs and a sofa. Photos of people from long, long ago covered one wall and Hermione gazed at the faces, searching for anyone familiar. There was just one that she recognized because she had seen it before. It was the same portrait of the Order of the Phoenix that she had seen at the Black residence.

"Come along, Hermione" McGonagall called and the wide-eyed girl followed into the dining room and kitchen. "Hermione, this is Zena," she introduced, motioning to an elderly, blue eyed house elf with a wide smile and a tartan blanket with a hole for a dress.

"Pleasure, miss," said Zena as she curtsied.

To be polite, Hermione said, "Nice to meet you," although she was inwardly frustrateted that this splendid woman who she looked up to would keep a house elf.

"There is someone I have to see for an hour or so, and Zena has offered to keep you company. Do you have any questions?"

Hermione wanted to ask how she could enslave a house elf, but instead she shook her head.

"Very good." Minerva gave Hermione's shoulder an affable squeeze. "I won't be gone long, but it'll give you time to unpack and maybe write to Harry."

"Okay." She didn't really want to be left alone in this mysterious house.

Before she left, Minerva gave a warm smile to both Hermione and Zena before apparating.

The moment she left, the house elf pointed to a seat and said excitedly, "Sit, sit, sit. You have to eat first."

"Oh, no thank you. I should go-"

"No, no, no, you must eat. It is good to have someone here at last. I have missed Minny much and she hasn't had anyone but those nice men over for years and years." The old elf looked so excited to have someone around that Hermione obeyed.

As Zena zipped around the kitchen Hermione's thoughts lingered on that childish nickname. Minny. "What nice men does she have over?" she asked curiously. The moment she said it she knew it was none of her business, but the old elf was talking again already.

"Oh, she used to have nice men here all the time. I liked Albie. He was the nicest nice young man. Very sad what happened. Mmhmm." Hermione figured that she was talking about Albus Dumbledore. This didn't surprise her. "And there's the young man down at the Scottish Council. He nice, but not as nice as Albie. Albie never tried nothing. Made him very nice. I very glad she brought you over. Hasn't had any friends here for long, long, long time." Zena giggled and brought a plate of sandwiches over. There was more than Hermione knew she could eat, but she took a small bite to be polite anyway. It was horrible.

"I didn't think Professor McGonagall would have a house elf," she mused aloud.

"I been looking after this house since Minny was really mini," there was another giggle, "she's my little girl. But she moved to England long ago and I only sees her sometimes. She still sends me letters, though. And that nice but not as nice as Albie man comes and visits sometimes when the house be naughty. You're not eating."

Hermione ate the sandwich and tried not to taste it. It felt like a kind of jam, but tasted like marmite.

"Do you wish you were free sometimes?" She asked, wondering if McGonagall would ever let her go.

"No, no, no! Never ever. Minny is my little girl. I wouldn't leave my home even if someone gave me a closet of clothesies. Is my home too, you know."

Hermione just nodded politely and tried to eat as many of the horrible sandwiches as she could.


	8. The Room of Banners

((My internet was down for a few days, so I'm a little behind schedule. Apologies for that, but at least you'll get two chapters for Christmas week. :3))

When Zena finally decided Hermione had eaten enough the young witch went to find her room again. It was the first door at the top of the stairs this time, and she only knew it by the red door. She was sure it had been further along. Inside she unpacked before deciding to go exploring again. Minerva had said that was okay but to be careful of the rooms changing place. At Hogwarts places like the entrance to the Headmaster's chamber only changed once a year. Here it seemed to happen whenever she closed the door.

Most of the rooms only held boxes but one had many old paintings leaning against the walls and another had children's toys and an old cot. She was filled with joy when she found an old writing desk that had the names Minny and Hetty etched into it. But by far her favorite room was the Library. This room had books stacked from floor to roof, wall to wall and Hermione spent a lot of time reading the titles of the tomes. After she grew tired of just browsing she picked out a couple that would be useful for her History of Magic homework and another for her own reading.

Eventually she came to a room that was more interesting than all the others. There were brightly colored banners on every wall- crests from different families (some were muggle and some were bewitched with moving lions and eagles). On some shelves there were awards and trophies. Hermione was delighted to see that most of them had Minerva McGongall's name written on them. There were prizes for quidditch and for academic excellence and for public service. One was for Transfiguration Today Most Promising Newcomer award and another was for bravery during the First Wizarding War.

On one wall numerous moving black and white photographs depicted a much younger Minerva with friends (including one who Hermione realised was Professor Sprout) and family. There was a muggle picture of her and a young man and it was the only one that had faded with age. As she stepped away to gaze at the many family crests on the walls she spotted another photo hanging by a nail, half hidden between a blue banner and a red one.

Staring at the picture, Hermione couldn't stop the tug she felt inside her. Her Professor must've been just a little bit older than Hermione was. She was graduating from an establishment of higher education like a college or university and her smile was so beautiful, so carefree it lit up the entire photograph. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulder and framed her modelesque features. Hermione wished she could meet this McGonagall and share in her ecstasy. But then there was the guy in the picture who was laughing also, handsome in a kind of rugged way who casually put his arm around the young Minerva's waist, pulling her closer. In the picture she didn't seem to notice or maybe not care, but Hermione did. She immediate disliked him. Especially not the way that he grasped her so possessively.

"Yes, even I was young once too," the voice made Hermione jump guiltily as if she were looking at something deeply intimate, and not just a photo on a wall.

"You gave me a fright," she said with a nervous laugh.

Minerva moved from the doorframe to where Hermione was so that she could gaze at the picture too. They were close together and the proximity made the girl shiver. As she moved her attention from the picture to her teacher and back again she could definitely see the same girl, although she was hidden beneath layers of measured brusqueness.

"I was quite pretty when I was your age," Minerva said under her breath, as if she were talking to herself.

"You still are," replied Hermione. The moment the words had left her lips she blushed, pursing her lips as if trying to pull the compliment back.

McGonagall laughed. "That's very sweet of you, Hermione, but I'll never look like that again."

"Who's he?" Hermione pointed to the guy in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

"An old friend."

"Just a friend?" it sounded more jealous than it was meant to.

Minerva quirked an eyebrow as a smile danced on her lips. "Yes, just a friend. He likes to think we could be more, but it'll never happen."

"So you still know him after all this time?"

"Yes, he's who I had to go see. He looks after the house when Zena can't."

"Oh, I think she mentioned him."

"Did she now?" McGonagall seemed amused with her eyebrows raised and a smile tugging at her lips.

"Um… yeah. She said he was a nice guy who helps when the house is naughty… whatever that means. She mentioned Dumbledore too."

"Well don't believe everything she says about me and Albus. She has an excitable imagination."

Hermione looked surprised. Was there something between McGonagall and Dumbledore? She didn't want to believe it, but it definitely seemed possible. "Actually she said he never tried anything. Um…" Now she really wanted to ask, but knew it was wildly inappropriate.

Now Minerva seemed uncomfortable, having realised she put herself on the spot. "Oh. Good." She spied the curious expression. "Don't go spreading rumours, Hermione. Albus was my best friend and nothing more. He was caring and kind, funny and intelligent, handsome as well, but he could never have been interested." It certainly sounded like McGonagall had fancied him.

"Why not? You're just as caring and intelligent and beautiful…"

"You're very sweet, dear, but Albus wasn't interested in any woman. I might not have been very happy about it some years ago, but he was always comfortable in his own skin, so I don't see why you shouldn't know."

It took a few moments for Hermione to understand. "You mean he is… was… gay?"

Minerva nodded sincerely. Once upon a time she wasn't overly enthused on the idea, but things change and she wished she had shown him the kind of love and support he deserved at the beginning as well as the end. She viewed Hermione's shocked face and imagined she looked the same when she found out so long ago. But then the expression changed. The corners of Hermione's lips quivered then jumped then turned into an all-out grin.

"Why are you smiling?" McGonagall asked seriously.

"It's nothing. I just didn't know there were any gay wizards. I've never heard of it before."

Minerva nodded. "It's just as common as among muggles, but we don't have the same… flamboyant attitude." Turning away, she surveyed the dustless room. It had been years since she had last stepped foot in here because thinking of her school years made her feel uncharacteristically melancholic. When she turned her attention back to Hermione, the girl was studying her expression. She cleared her throat. "Come downstairs. Zena's got dinner on the table."

"Already?"

"It's seven o'clock, Hermione."

"Oh." Hermione hadn't realised how long she had spent wandering the house.


	9. The Nightmare

That night the two women spent time playing wizard chess, discussing the morality of love potions and reading in companionable silence. Long after Minerva had gone to bed Hermione was still reading and making notes on her homework. She didn't want to go to sleep because she still feared what lurked beneath her conscience. There were many nights that Hermione flailed and called out in her sleep, but in recent months she was aided from that pain-filled world by the comforting help of the silver-black tabby. In this dark, magical manor, however, she was alone in the fight against the night terrors and it made waking so much more difficult. As the night wore on she fought against the ghoulish hold of Bellatrix, her own personal demon. When Bellatrix's knife pierced her arm the pain was excruciating and her scream reverberated through the house.

From just down the hall Minerva had woken with a jolt by the horrified shriek of her young friend. This wasn't the first night that she had been shocked awake this way, but it still made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. As soon as she had wrapped herself in a gown she sprinted through the house. The moment she was by Hermione's side she grasped the girl's shoulders and raised her to a sitting position, calling her name.

Hermione's tormentor tried to hold her in the dream world, nails penetrating her skin, but McGonagall's voice guided her back to reality. As Bellatrix disappeared below her, Hermione finally opened her tear-streaked eyes. For the first few moments she didn't know where she was or who was holding her. She struggled against the body until her memories returned. She cried into the Professor's shoulder, holding her as tight as her lean arms would allow and Minerva embraced her back, murmuring into the bushy mane.

"It's okay, dear. It's all over. You're awake now, here with me. Shhh…"

They sat there a while and even when Hermione had lost the strength in her arms to hold on any longer, Minerva continued to hug her tight. She kissed the crown of the girl's head and then her temple, rocking until the sobbing died down.

"S-sorry, P-proffessor,"Hermione hiccoughed, "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologise for. You just had a nightmare."

Shaking her head, the teenager pushed away so she could swing her legs over the side of the bed. "They aren't nightmares. They're too real to be n-nightmares. It's like it's happening all over again, but all… all at once. All of it. Lupin and Fred and Tonks and, and even Harry… all dead and I didn't do anything. And her… she's in my head and she hurts me from the inside." Hermione buried her face in Minerva's shoulder again before pulling back the sleeve of her pyjama top. The scars that formed the word MUDBLOOD looked as raw and red as they did the night it was cut into her and there were hand-shaped circled her wrists. "It hurts so much."

McGonagall had known that the girl had nightmares; that she was afraid to sleep. Many nights had been spent by her side, curled and ready for the moment she was needed, but she had never known that it was this bad. She had never been privy to this frightening side-effect.

"S-sometimes I see her when I'm awake. Or I think I do. Just in the corner of my eye. Or I can smell that ghastly odour from the Malfoys' dungeon. And now… you know Nick said Voldemort's back. In the castle as a ghost."

"That's not true," McGonagall cut in firmly. There was no way it could be true. "You and Harry destroyed all the horcruxes. You killed what was left of his soul."

"But what if there's another one. I thought of it tonight. What if Hogwarts is a horcrux too?"

Minerva shook her head and wrapped an arm around the girl's too-thin waist. "Hogwarts… there is nowhere safer. No wizard could hope to overpower the kind of protective magic that the many, many Headmasters have put into it. I have heard there's a new ghost that doesn't yet have the power to materialise, but it isn't him. I promise, when we go back to the school we will find the spirit together and prove that it is not Voldemort."

She wasn't convinced, but Hermione nodded anyway and cleared her throat. Crying had made her throat sore and dry and now that she was fully awake she felt foolish and childish. To put distance between herself and her professor's warm frame she stood and walked to the wall mirror. She looked dreadful. No one looked graceful when they cried, but her face was puffy and red, her eyes huge and her nose running. It was embarrassing.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

She nodded.

"Come downstairs and we'll have some warm milk. Then you can try to get a better night's rest."

Hermione wanted to protest. Sure, she'd go down stairs, but she very much doubted she could sleep again. The threat of those memories was too frightening and would keep her up till morning, even if she tried.

Before going downstairs, Hermione washed her face in the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom while McGonagall waited at the foot of the stairs, two warm mugs in her hands. Hermione paused during her descent long enough to feel bad for upsetting her teacher's sleep.

At the bottom of the stairs she met Minerva and took a mug from her. "I'm sorry for waking you," she said, eyes cast down.

"Stop apologising," Minerva chastised softly as she led the way to the lounge.

A fire was already burning brightly in the hearth, warming the room. They sat together on the sofa and at McGonagall's insistence Hermione described the nightmare in detail. The warm milk, hearty fire and good company eventually did their job and as hard as she tried to fight it, Hermione found herself start to drift off again. Her head bobbed and shoulders slumped as she leaned into McGonagall's body. Despite her fears and the strange surroundings she felt safe. When she finally surrendered to sleep Minerva levitated her back into her room and covered her with the doona. Once satisfied that Hermione was peaceful, she murmured 'goodnight' for the second time that night and left, promising herself to find a way to help her young friend.

((Two chapters for Christmas week and then we'll return to Hogwarts and the ghost for New Year's.))


	10. Meeting an Old Friend

The following day McGonagall allowed Hermione to sleep. When she finally awoke, the night seemed to be a distant memory. The curtains had been pulled back to reveal a grey, frosty morning and a tray of breakfast was left at the end of the bed. She devoured it with surprising gusto before dressing in a comfortable, warm outfit. The past month of steady meals had almost returned Hermione's weight to normal so her clothes didn't hang so loose. Looking at her reflection she was still pale and had dark rings around her eyes, but her cheek bones weren't so prevalent. It was an improvement, though she still had far to go.

Carrying the tray of dishes downstairs she found Minerva sitting opposite the fireplace, the green image of a dark featured face flickering in the flames. The man's voice had a strange accent that Hermione couldn't place, but he sounded important. She hurried through to the kitchen so as not to intrude on their conversation. Zena took the dishes and told Hermione that her Minny had been in conference with foreign ministry officials for hours. While waiting for McGonagall, the house elf happily reminisced about the trouble her mistress got into as a child due to her unmatchable transfigurative abilities. Hermione's favourite tale was about the time Minerva was six and a muggle girl wouldn't play with her so she turned the girl's jump-rope into a snake.

McGonagall came into the room just in time to correct Zena that it wasn't a poisonous snake- just a spotted python. She was glad to see that Hermione was enjoying herself. Sitting at the table opposite Hermione, she accepted a cup of tea and shared her own favourite story- about the time she ran away from home at eight because she thought she was in love with a muggle boy named Harold. When their mugs were empty Minerva looked up at the wall clock.

"Hermione, it slipped my mind, but I've arranged for us to have lunch with my friend, Godfrey McLachlan."

The smile Hermione had been wearing faded for a moment before she forced it back on. She was enjoying spending time with Minerva and Zena and didn't want it to end. She was also reluctant to share her professor, but not wanting to come across as juvenile and self-indulgent, she agreed feebly.

"I'm sure you'll like him, dear, he's an old friend and a lovely fellow. He looks after Zena while I'm away."

Quarter of an hour later the two women bade farewell to Zena and locked arms to side-apparate. There was the usual pop and nauseating sensation of being sucked down a drain. A moment later Hermione's feet slammed into the ground and she fell forward onto a lawn of soft, warm green grass. Her teacher helped her to her feet and she looked around in wonder. They were in a garden of bright colours and pleasant aromas. Everything was green and lush and it looked as though winter had bypassed this part of the world.

"Godfrey is a herbology enthusiast," Minerva explained. She smiled lovingly at the expression of awe.

"It's beautiful."

"His gardens are always in bloom; they're his pride and joy."

They followed a path of stepping stones around a fence of grape vines to where a cottage-type house sat. It was squat and comfortable looking with red awnings and a red door. They stepped up onto the veranda and Hermione admired a wind chime with a dancing glass unicorn on the top while McGonagall knocked on the door. Only moments passed before it was opened by a tall, thin man. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that it was the same man who was in the photo in the room of banners. He was obviously much older, but his hair was still vibrantly red and messy, though shorter, and his eyes still had the same shape and gleam. When he saw Minerva he beamed.

"Well if it isn't the two brightest witches of their age," he said in an even thicker Scottish accent than McGonagall's.

"Hello Godfrey," the older witch replied with a smile.

"Min, it's wonderful to see you so soon, and this must be Hermione." He shook her hand in a painful grip. "Come in, ladies. Leave your shoes on, take your coats off and have a glass of wine with me."

They took their jackets off (it was plenty warm enough inside) and followed him into the small house. Hermione looked around with interest. She loved seeing wizarding homes- they all seemed to have a different type of magic. Grimauld place was hidden from view, McGonagall Manor had its changing rooms, even the Burrow had a ghoul in its attic and was self-cleaning. The inside of this place seemed less magical than its garden, although the window in the office which they passed overlooked a beach which was nowhere near here and Hermione saw a feather duster and broom cleaning on their own.

The older witch and wizard talked as they walked and Hermione trailed behind, listening half-heartedly but completely aware of the way his hand sat low on Minerva's waist. They were discussing the Manor and a room which had gone missing. When they reached the dining room at the end of a hall of mirrors with fog on the insides (Godfrey told Hermione that he used them to communicate with people from the Scottish Council where he worked) they sat at a small round table which floated without legs.

"Klaus," called the wizard and at the name a house elf appeared with a pop. The creature was slightly smaller than other elves Hermione had seen and his eyes seemed even larger than usual. He was dressed in material that looked like it had come from curtains and hand-stitched into overalls. "Fetch the lunch and some wine." The house elf bowed low enough for his nose to bend on the ground then walked quickly out the door.

"Do most wizarding families have house elves?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Those of us from influential families," the host replied with a nod in McGonagall's direction.

"Hermione is a defender of elven rights," Minerva said fondly.

"What for? They enjoy serving more evolved species. It's why they're here."

The young witch looked disapproving. "That's the same argument used to pardon slave owners. Besides, by all accounts elves are magically much more powerful than any normal human."

"You're young," Godfrey excused, "you'll understand how things work when you're older."

Hermione struggled not to argue. She was a guest and didn't want to be impolite, even though she thought she had been through more in the past two years than this man had dealt with his whole life. Klaus, the house elf returned carrying plates in his hands with a platter of sandwiches, a bottle of wine and glasses floating obediently behind him. He set the things on the table and bowed again. Godfrey dismissed him with a wave.

"Godfrey, when will you find out whether the British Ministry will comply with your request for independence?" Minerva asked before anyone brought up house elves again.

For a while Hermione simply listened to the conversation. It turned back to her and school and she explained the essay she was writing about magical appropriation in the English colonies. Then she was asked what she planned to do when the year finished and whether she intended to join the Ministry as Harry and Ron were (as aurors). She said she didn't know and suddenly the conversation became about the two boys. Where were they? Did they have any trouble joining the auror academy without their NEWTs? How long until they'd be back in action? Hermione answered the questions the best she could with the information she'd received through written correspondence with Harry. The boys were staying at Grimauld Place, no, they didn't have any trouble since the Minister of Magic vouched for their abilities (not to mention the entire wizarding world already knew that they'd defeated the dark lord numerous times), at the rate they were going they'd graduate in a year and a bit.

"You should become an auror too, Hermione," Godfrey said, "being in school must be so boring after all the excitement." When she took a deep drink of her wine but didn't answer, he went on. "A year away from school with your friends running around, fighting death eaters, you must've had the time of your life."

"Actually, Hermione's going to take some time off after she graduates to go to Australia," interrupted McGonagall, seeing how uncomfortable the other witch was.

When Hermione raised her glass to her lips again her hand trembled. Her heart was racing from the memory of running, trying to keep up with Harry. They were surrounded and she had no choice but to turn her wand on her friend. Her lungs struggled to breathe as her throat closed up. Instinctively she reached for her wand.

"Are you alright, dear?" Minerva placed a hand on Hermione's.

"Please excuse me," she managed to say, her breath returning long enough to give a weak smile. Without waiting for a reply she stood and hurried through the door, turning into the hall. The mirrors reflected her pale, panicked face and she drew her wand. Pointing it at each mirror, she leaned close to try and see if anyone was staring back. Her own pallid visage with manic eyes and wild hair made her lurch back. It didn't look like her at all; it looked like Bellatrix. Fear paralysed her and she held her breath, waiting for the dead witch to reveal herself. She wouldn't be caught off guard this time.

"Hermione?"

She reeled around and without thought raised her wand. An amber light shot from its tip, but with equally fast reflexes McGonagall cast a barrier and the spell rebounded, smashing one of the eerie mirrors. Hermione immediately looked fearful.

"I'm sorry," she choked out before rushing around the corner. Behind her she heard Godfrey ask what had happened, but fled out the front door before hearing the reply. On the veranda she paused. She didn't know where to go. As a student she wasn't able to apparate to Hogwarts, her parents were in Australia and she couldn't just turn up at the Burrow the day before Christmas. McGonagall Manor was the only place she could go at the moment and she didn't know whether she would be welcome. Confused and upset, she crumpled on the steps and sat there, her breaths coming in short and ragged. She couldn't see straight and her limbs tingled from lack of oxygen. Her thoughts were racing with the idea that she was going to die, that she would never be free of this pain, that she would be cast out into the streets. Amongst the rabble in her head was the smallest voice, but it repeated its phrase over and over, "I am not alone. Minerva won't abandon me." Hermione latched onto the mantra and repeated it in her head and the other thoughts began to lose their strength. She forced herself to breathe deeply and imagined what it was like to held by her friend. Her body ceased its buzzing and her eyesight returned to normal. She was going to be okay.

The door behind her opened and Minerva stepped outside, sitting beside the girl on the stairs.

"You scared me, Hermione." She put an arm around the girl's shoulders and Hermione leaned into her, resting her head on her teacher's shoulder. Her face was wet with tears, but she was in control again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cast that spell. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Oh darling, not that. When you left. I thought you'd run away."

"You aren't mad?"

"I'm concerned. I think we need to get you help in case you curse someone else, but I'm not angry at you at all." She was stern, but her voice was still soft. "You're hurting. I know what it's like to hurt, and know you aren't always in control of your actions. So I forgive you."

"Thank you." Hermione wiped her eyes and let McGonagall kiss her forehead. It made her stomach flutter and she smiled slightly.

"Would you like to go home?" Minerva asked after a minute.

Her heart and stopped racing and her thoughts had cleared again. The fear had subsided. "I'm okay. We can stay a little longer."

"Are you sure? Godfrey won't mind if we leave early."

"No, we should stay." She got to her feet and offered her hand to help Minerva up. The front door opened again and the wizard looked at them, still holding hands.

"Is everything alright out here?" He asked with a slight frown.

"Just getting some air," replied Minerva. "We're coming."

Hermione followed them inside and noticed that the mirror had already been repaired and hung up again.

"Don't worry about that, Min," Godfrey said, pointing at it, "I've done that once or twice and the elf is always breaking things."

"We are getting clumsy in our old age," she replied and Hermione knew McGonagall had lied to keep her out of trouble. She stopped in her tracks, blinking at the strangeness. Her professor, one of the strictest teachers she had met, had lied for her.

When she joined them again the conversation at the table had already commenced. The two old friends talked mostly about politics and new discoveries which left Hermione feeling small. No one tried to discuss the war or Hermione's future and she became acutely aware that Minerva had probably told him not to ask those questions. Instead of actively participating in the dialog she listened and watched, becoming increasingly conscious of every gesture the wizard made. Whenever he had the chance, Godfrey would place his hand on McGonagall's and he inched his way closer to her every time he laughed. While he never looked Hermione's way the other witch looked to her many times, smiling at her and often pulling her hand away from Godfrey's in favour of offering lemon cake or more water to her.

It would be a lie to say Hermione was sorry to go. However, when McGonagall announced the intention to go home she thanked the host politely and agreed it was _very_ nice to meet him. He walked them out to the garden where they donned their coats and he kissed Minerva on the cheek. The gesture was returned, though stiffly, and the two witches linked arms. There was the final "Goodbye," and "Don't be a stranger," before the pop. In an instant they were no longer in the colourful, inviting garden and back in the cool, but comfortable sitting room of McGonagall Manor.

Hermione took a moment to steady herself. The room was the same one as they left from, but there were two differences from how it looked in the morning; there was now a Christmas tree (un-decorated, but with a few gifts beneath it), and there were four owls perched around the room. She knew the small, erratic one to be Pigwidgeon but the others were a mystery. Ginny's owl flew to her shoulder the moment they arrived. There was a look of bemusement on McGonagall's face as Zena skidding into the room with two dead mice in each hand. The house elf explained that the birds had all arrived while they were out. The small one and the large tawny barn owl had been carrying a largish package between them and the old black one carried a festive gift. Both of them had been addressed to Hermione. The fourth owl had brought something for Minerva which she'd placed in her room.

"Well this isn't an owlery, Zena. Take them into the kitchen so they won't make a mess on the carpet." The house elf bowed and apologised. She whistled and waved the mice to get the animals' attention before being chased into the other room. "Now Hermione, since Zena's already gone to the trouble of finding us a tree we might as well decorate it."


	11. Merry Christmas

((I'm sorry this update is a couple days late. (I left my laptop at my mum's when I visited her. Oops.) For your christmas present I give you a happy chapter. I might take a week off to get a headstart on a few chapters, but next we'll be returning to Hogwarts. Happy Holidays!))

The night before Christmas was a quiet one. After dinner McGonagall sat on the lounge and went over some paperwork from the Ministry while Hermione lay on her stomach on the ground, writing her essay. There wasn't much need for talk but it was entirely pleasant. When the owls from Luna and the Burrow had recovered from their flights Hermione tied the gifts she had bought from Hogsmeade to their legs and sent them on their way. She tried to stay awake as long as possible but eventually fell into a restless sleep.

When Hermione rose on Christmas morning Minerva was already in the kitchen, pouring a drink for Zena who was sitting at the table with her short legs swinging. The house elf turned and sang a greeting when the young witch entered, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. Plates had already been set out so McGonagall could easily serve the omelette and bacon when it was finished.

"I've cooked the Christmas breakfast ever since I was a tyke," she said as she distributed the meal, "I didn't know what gift to get my mother one time so I made her breakfast in bed. Since then it's the only thing I've really known how to cook."

It was a lovely meal and afterwards the three of them talked at length about what they would do for the day. Zena was happily planning a roast dinner and mentioned having to go to the markets to get some vegetables. Hermione still had work to do for her assignment so McGonagall offered to look over it and then the two of them would go for a walk.

It was snowing lightly when they left the house just after midday. The soft blanket crunched under their feet, but the two women were wrapped up tight in their coats. They walked arm in arm, sometimes in silence, sometimes while Minerva was talking about her favourite places. Hermione remained quiet. She wasn't quite sad, although there was the persistent tug of it in the pit of her stomach, but she didn't want this week to end. Going back to school would mean people staring curiously at her and deadlines and loneliness. The only thing she looked forward to was seeing her cat again. She wondered what it was doing while she was away.

"You've been awfully quite, dear, are you okay?" The question broke her out of her reverie.

"I'm fine. I'm just really enjoying being here with you."

McGonagall smiled and ran her hand over Hermione's hair, "I as well."

"Will we be able to do this sort of thing when we return to Hogwarts? Go for walks and such?"

"Perhaps. We'll both be very busy, but we'll still have our dinners."

Hermione wrapped her arms around the older witch who was surprised, but awkwardly returned the embrace.

At the end of the road they were walking down there was a small village. They wandered the streets until they came across a tavern called the Dragon's Heart. Minerva opened the door and they were immediately engulfed in warmth. It was a welcome change from the bracing cold outside. There weren't many people inside, and those that looked up when they entered didn't stare. It was roomy and had a small stage where they would probably have entertainment, but today it was nearly empty. They ordered two butterbeers from the portly man behind the bar and then they took a table by the hearth.

A couple of wizards tipped their hats as they passed and McGonagall greeted them by name. Evidently this small town was a fairly tightknit community and even though she was away most of the year, the headmistress still remembered all her neighbours. Hermione was a stranger to these folks, but no one treated her as a zoo attraction which was a change from other magical towns where people knew her from her adventures with Harry.

"Everyone's so polite here," Hermione commented when a witch touched Minerva's arm and welcomed her home.

"Yes, we're among friends here. I grew up with Emilia and Kendrick Hawthorne over there." She nodded towards a witch and wizard at the bar, both wearing red robes. "And that's Ruth McLachlan with the beard. I baby sat for her before I became a teacher."

"Who's that?" Hermione indicated to a man in formal attire talking heatedly into a crystal ball.

"That's Alfred Silvertail. He's a ministry official. He was one of the first to turn when Voldemort came into power. They're investigating him at the moment."

Hermione shivered. She hated the idea that there was a death eater in the same room as her. She pointed to another witch and then another and McGonagall named them all, adding little anecdotes if she had them.

People came and went and a couple stopped to chat. They ran out of people after their third round of drinks and rose to leave. It was still light out, but night would fall quickly and they wanted to walk home before then.

The sun was beginning to set when they returned to the Manor and the wind was heaving. Both witches were grateful to be inside where the fire was blazing cheerfully and the most welcoming scent greeted them. Zena was in the kitchen, conducting the ingredients and utensils as if they were an orchestra. When Hermione stepped onto the tiles to offer assistance a defensive spatula chased her out again.

"It's best leave her be until she's finished," said an amused Minerva before suggesting a game of wizard chess.

They played a few rounds, but there was some time left until dinner was finished so they returned to their rooms to bathe. Hermione was finished first and took the opportunity to take her teacher's gift and place it under the Christmas tree. When McGonagall returned in her plaid nightgown, Hermione was curled up on the couch with a book open.

Zena announced dinner and they followed her into the dining room where two places had been set complete with candles and folded napkins. They sat at the table and two plates floated into the room. There was a light salad to start followed by roast beef and vegetables, soup and finally chocolate truffles for desert. Neither witch was able to complete every course, but they tried. The conversation was frivolous and joyful with no mention of the future. Unable to take another bite they retired to the lounge room to open gifts. At Minerva's insistence, Zena followed them.

The two witches sat on the couch, both too full to sit on the ground, and the elf handed out presents.

The first was from Luna and it was a charm bracelet with different symbols hanging from it. McGonagall got a book from Zena who in turn received a silver bauble with a golden inscription that Hermione couldn't make out. Whatever it said made the house elf tear up with joy. Harry had sent a book about identifying dark magic which he thought Hermione would find interesting as well as a letter. The package from the Weasleys had a box of chocolate frogs, a Weasley Wheezes love potion and an old spell book of practical magic.

Hermione curled her feet up under herself and held her breath nervously as Zena handed her gift to Minerva. It had silver wrapping which the older woman was careful not to tear. She pushed the paper aside and stood to hold up the garment.

It was a robe knitted from the softest blue wool. When McGonagall held it up there was a tremor of light in the fabric as if it were momentarily on fire.

"It feels like it's emanating heat." Minerva said as she examined the craftsmanship.

"It is," replied Hermione, "I weaved a fire spell into the wool before I knitted it so it'll always keep you warm."

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

They shared a smile and their gaze was broken when Zena shook the last gift to get Hermione's attention. It was wrapped in red and gold and the note on it said it was from McGonagall. She smiled shyly and unwrapped it carefully. There was a plain brown box and when she opened the lid there was a dirty old, deflated football. The smile disappeared from her face and she looked up in confusion. McGonagall was grinning and she explained.

"It's a port-key. A long distance port-key to be exact. It's how we'll go to Australia when you finish school. It only activates after the finals, so you won't be able to use it until then. I've already organised a meeting with a member for muggle-wizarding affairs at the Australian consulate for that time. We're going to find your parents."

Hermione stared at the box, speechless. Was this what McGonagall had been working on all these days? A hand rested on her knee and she looked up, realising they were still waiting for a response.

"I really don't know what to say. You went to all this trouble…"

"You're worth every bit of it." There was nothing but kindness in Minerva's lilt. Hermione flung her arms around her in a sudden burst of gratitude. She hadn't thought she'd ever see her parents again and now the first step had been taken. If she were doing it on her own she doubted she would make it.

"We're really going to find them."

"Absolutely." When they pulled away her face was tear stained and Minerva wiped her cheeks. "Please don't cry."

Hermione hiccoughed, "It's okay. I'm happy." There was a tang of guilt when she said it- doubt that she deserved happiness. The sadness was there, but she refused to let it corrupt the moment. Being happy was the least she could do for Minerva. So she smiled and laughed as she wiped her face. She wished that the week would never end.


	12. Emergency Return to Hogwarts

For the first time in a long while Hermione was happy. She was tired and felt as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders, but whenever she looked over at her friend, she felt a glimmer of joy in her heart. At McGonagall Manor exams, Australia and Ron Bloody Weasley seemed forever away. After completing her essay, she spent the following two days reading the books she had been given for Christmas. Usually she sat beside Minerva on the couch or at the dining room table. During the day they'd walk into the village and talk to the friendly locals or to the fields neighbouring the Manor where Hermione could practice her seventh year spells at dead, leafless trees. At night they'd remain by the fire and read or play chess. Sometimes Zena let Hermione help cook and they'd discuss the laws surrounding magical creatures. The waves of sadness and fear only ever caught up to Hermione at night when everyone had gone to bed. When she woke screaming Minerva would be there to hold her and lead her downstairs to talk about her nightmares.

Although it would indicate the end of their stay they were anticipating the New Year fireworks display in the village. It would be conducted by a friend of McGonagall's who had always been particularly adept at elaborate charms. However, her years with Harry had taught Hermione that things rarely go her way and she wasn't so surprised when their New Year plans were dashed by a frantic owl.

It was the 28th and Hermione was in the kitchen folding pastries with Zena when the faun-feathered animal crashed into the window. After recovering from the fright, she quickly let it in and it flew erratically around the kitchen, knocking over a bowl of flour. She caught it before it managed to make a bigger mess and Zena called her mistress who came to take the letter from Hermione. As the house elf calmed the owl and fed it a treat, McGonagall read the note aloud, her brogue steady. Only the slight tremor in her hands let on that she was troubled.

"Headmistress, come immediately. Ghost has attacked again. Emergency. Filch."

Minerva folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into her pocket while turning to her young friend. She wore a familiar frown. "Hermione, get your things. Unfortunately we'll have to cut our stay short."

Hermione nodded. She was disappointed, but had known their return was inevitable. She packed hastily and felt the weight of dread growing in her stomach. They were going to have to deal with the ghost sooner or later, but she was still fearful of the possibility that it might be Voldemort or Bellatrix. Both of the dark wizards had died on school grounds and both had reason to haunt it. Even with her coat pulled over her thick jumper she was shivering as she made her way back downstairs. McGonagall was already waiting for her and saying good bye to Zena. The room was empty of all signs that it had been used less than five minutes ago. To Hermione it looked bare.

"Come home for Easter, Minny. I miss you when you're away." McGonagall's eyes were trained on the window while Zena said goodbye. Hermione realised how hard it must be for her to leave the last remnants of her family. The house elf turned to Hermione who was clutching her beaded bag with white fingers. She didn't want to leave. "And you come visit me too, Miss 'Mione."

"I will. Thank you for your hospitality."

Zena stood away from them as Hermione held the older witch's arm. They were both tense with trepidation.

"Be good, my girls." Was the last thing they heard before they apparated.

The main entrance where they appeared was large and quiet, eerie without the clamour of students. The portraits that hung on the walls began asking questions the moment they saw it was McGonagall and she hushed them all. The headmistress turned to Hermione, intentionally not touching her now they were back in the school where eyes watched them from the walls. To the younger woman it felt as if they were suddenly very far apart.

After a moment Minerva spoke. "Would you like to go to your room and wait there?"

Hermione shook her head swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in a castle where she no longer felt safe- a ghost could find her anywhere she went. Instead of admitting her fears she said, "I want to help."

McGonagall gave a curt nod and immediately turned at the sound of stone scraping followed by footsteps. Filch limped forward, his face red. He didn't seem surprised to see them.

"Headmistress. You have to get it under control. The ghost, assuming it really is a ghost," he glared suspiciously at Hermione, "is running amok."

McGonagall approached him, leaving Hermione standing by the doors. "Has anyone been hurt?" She asked.

Filch scowled. "Not yet. But it's getting stronger. It smashed the glass cabinets in the trophy room, upturned my office, set a swarm of Cornish pixies free on the second floor and filled the dungeons with dung." As he talked his voice became shrill until Hermione winced at the sound. "I haven't slept in two days. It's driving me insane." Despite how much she hated Filch she found she pitied his plight.

"Are you sure it hasn't just been Peeves?"

He shook his head and kneaded his temples. "The Bloody Baron has him scared stiff and the Fat Friar has been watching his every move."

"And where are the ghosts now?"

"Searching the castle, ma'am."

Minerva sighed. There hadn't been this much commotion in years. "Well is there any good news?"

"Hrrm. The thing is beginning to materialise. The paintings on the seventh floor claimed to have seen a human-shaped fog and the Weeping Woman saw legs on the fourth floor."

"Well it'll be easier to find once it's taken its shape."

"What should we do now?"

The headmistress thought for a moment before answering. "Keep looking. Hermione and I will talk to the Bloody Baron and if he deems it necessary I'll send owl for a professional."

As Filch skulked away McGonagall turned and strode towards the great staircase. Filch had told them that the Bloody Baron would be somewhere on the fourth floor where the spectre was last sighted. Hermione had to hurry to keep up. The professor didn't seem to be in the mood to talk so she kept her lips sealed and her thoughts to herself. Her mind was spinning from the sudden change of pace.

"Professor McGonagall!" They were on the staircase between the second and third floor when the cheery voice halted them. The witches stopped as Nearly Headless Nick emerged from the wall. He was smiling from ear to ear and waving excitedly. "Hermione, I have the most excellent news!"

"Have they caught it?" McGonagall asked, her body relaxing.

"Who is it?" Hermione added, her voice notably filled with dread.

"The poltergeist? No, he's still around somewhere. I'm talking about something much more important. See if you can guess what it is."

"We don't have time, Nicholas. Where is the Baron?" Minerva's expression hardened with annoyance.

"I think he's around the alchemy classroom. Don't you want to know my news?"

The headmistress was already walking away but Hermione paused to apologise. "Maybe later, Nick. We're kind of busy at the moment."

The ghost sniffed moodily while the young witch hurried after her teacher.

Around them the portraits gossiped amongst themselves and the voices made the air feel thicker. Hermione felt like she was drowning in it. Minerva was too distracted to pay her much mind and she felt alone, the comfort of McGonagall Manor already fading like a dream.

When they found the Bloody Baron he said very little. Hermione was thankful for this because the sound of his voice made the hair on her neck stand on end. The sum of it was that they had nothing to show for their search except an uncertain description of the ghost's lower half. The timing of its appearance suggested it had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Considering the number of casualties it was impossible to determine which side it had been. The destructive behaviour was not encouraging. The Baron's advice was to wait. There was nothing they could do until it had fully manifested and even then the, living had no control over the dead. They could try to reason with it if it turned out to be good. If it was a wraith, or the soul of a death eater they'd have to request an exorcist from the Ministry.

Hermione was discouraged. There was nothing she could do and since Minerva had to alert the Ministry of Magic of a potential dark spirit, she was left to help Filch by cleaning the trophy room. Scourgify and repairo made it easy to return the trophy cases to their shining selves, but it was lonely and the time consuming work. Whenever she heard an echo of a sound she jumped, her nerves frayed from this sudden isolation. After putting things right there she hurried back towards her chamber. The distance seemed magnified and Hermione wished she was able to apparate inside the castle like the teachers and house elves could.

She was on the third floor when she saw Nearly Headless Nick talking to a painting of a pirate. He sounded excited. Hermione was just going to walk past him because she was exhausted, but he saw her and called her name.

"Hermione! How goes the good fight?"

"It's tiring. I'm off to bed at the moment."

"So presently you aren't busy?"

Hermione remembered Nick's excitement earlier and she put on the biggest smile she could muster. "I have time for you."

Nicholas nodded, his head threatening to fall off at the movement. "I have wonderful news. Spectacular news!"

"Out with it."

"For my bravery during last year's battle here at Hogwarts I've been offered…" he paused dramatically, "an invitation to be an honorary member of the Headless Hunters!"

Hermione clapped her hands together in faux-excitement. "That's fantastic." All she could think about was her bed waiting for her.

When he had floated away, having spotted another spirit who hadn't heard his news, Hermione rushed to her room. She didn't want to have to talk to anyone else.

The young witch's room felt large and empty, though most of her belongings were still there. Her books and potions equipment, suitcases and clothes seemed to belong to someone else. She wanted to go back to McGonagall Manor where Zena was baking and Minerva had time for her. When she dropped her beaded handbag on the floor there was the rattle and clamour of stuff rolling about. She had to unpack, but was weary from running about chasing phantoms. With an exhausted sigh she lay back onto her bed. She tired of fighting, of adventure but even with the war over she still wasn't given any rest. Closing her eyes she quickly slipped into a deep sleep.


	13. The Ghost

Professor McGonagall was kept incredibly busy for days, chasing evidence of the poltergeist's presence, organising transfiguration classes, as well as keeping her usual headmaster's appointments. She rarely had time for Hermione who had taken to spending the cold days in Hogsmeade. The only thing that pleased Hermione was when she had a visitor very late on New Year's Eve. She had been reading on her bed when there was a familiar scratching at the window. The moment she heard it she leapt to her feet and darted to the window where the cat was sitting, shivering on the sill. Hermione scooped the small animal in her arms and fell back on her bed, laughing as it licked her face excitedly.

"I missed you too, puss." She said.

Daintily the cat stepped off her chest and sat purring beside her. Remembering the gift she had bought in Hogsmeade, Hermione went to her bureau and pulled out a drawer. She took the collar from under a pile of robes and took it to the cat which was watching her curiously.

"I didn't see you before Christmas, but this is your present," she said before fitting it onto her friend. At first the band was a little too big but as soon as the clasp was done up it shrunk to the right size. The colours shimmered and changed in the light like mother of pearl and Hermione admired it as the cat rubbed itself fondly against her arm.

She slept soundly that night, dreaming of a large black animal with a shining collar fighting a huge, eyeless snake.

In the morning the cat had already disappeared, but Hermione didn't mind. In the great hall she ate a small breakfast before going to the library. Madam Pince was still away and the forbidden section was locked off, but she was free to browse the collection of books. There was a small number on ghosts in the magical creature section and she picked out the ones that she hadn't read yet. She wanted to know how to ward them off, or fight them if necessary, but there was almost nothing on the subject. A dark spirit was called a wraith (she knew this already) and they could be dangerous, but exorcisms were extremely controversial because of the moral implications. There might be some books on the subject in the forbidden section, but she wouldn't be able to get a key until the librarian had returned in a few days. Hermione continued to study late into the afternoon without break. She looked at pest spells, defence against the dark arts, household pest control, care of magical creatures, and theories about life after death. Nothing came close to telling her how to get rid of a ghost.

By the time the light was fading from the window overlooking the lake she was tired, hungry and dehydrated but nowhere close to her goal. When she stood up to walk her back ached and her legs tingled with pins and needles. She returned the books to their places and walked slowly from the library. The books had let her down. They were usually so reliable, but today they were a disappointment. If the books were useless then there really wasn't anything she could do. Hermione balled her hands into fists and bit her lip, trying not to get upset. She felt the sting of frustrated tears but refused to let them fall. Calming herself as much as possible, she thought about Minerva. She must know something by now. Imagining her teacher at her desk making plans helped. Relaxing slightly, Hermione began to walk, counting her steps.

She felt composed again as she ascended the first staircase. On the second, she smiled, congratulating herself on reigning in her emotions. Half way up the third flight of stairs there was a jolt and Hermione grabbed the railing in fright. She held on as the staircase slowly swung away from the headmaster's office and towards a dark corridor. There was another shudder as it stopped again, and Hermione hurried to the top before it had a chance to move again. She groaned. From here she'd have to walk a long way around to McGonagall's office. With measured breaths she straightened her back and started the journey. She had to walk towards the muggle studies classroom and turn past the statue of the ugly witch. From there she counted the classrooms she passed until she reached the twelfth door. When she opened it she felt a cold breeze tickle the back of her neck. Hermione shivered.

The door led to another corridor which was usually quite warm but today felt freezing. It was windowless and flickering torches on the walls made the shadows jump and seem to take strange shapes. This hall made her nervous, but it was a short cut and she wanted to get to McGonagall's office as soon as possible. Wrapping her arms around her stomach she hurried through the cold room. A gust of wind ruffled her hair, making the curls dance. She turned to look back at the closed door. Another draft threatened to make the torches go out and Hermione walked backwards. Where was the wind coming from? She turned and began to hurry, too aware of the sound of her shoes on the hard ground. Her hair lifted up off her shoulders and she spun around, staring wildly. Her wand was in her hand and pointed at the shadows, but nothing tangible moved.

"Hermione," The voice was coming from the wall and it was muffled and distant, but it was definitely her name.

She felt the blood rush from her face as her heart beat faster, circulation making her hands and feet tingle. Her breath was shaky and fast, her vision becoming more acute. The voice came again, this time sounding closer.

"Hermione."

She gave a choked sob and the sound of her own moan set her legs running towards the exit. It felt miles away, like the room stretched while she ran, but in just a minute she came barrelling through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Hermione doubled over, her breath heaving with sobs, but she had to keep moving. It was after her, she knew it. Whipping her head around wildly, she tried to remember which way she had to go. She couldn't- panic had overwritten her memory of this place. She beat her head with her fists in frustration and chose left, taking off at a run. Paintings yelled at her to slow down and asking her what was wrong, but she didn't pay them any attention. She was moving so fast that she couldn't tell where in the castle she was. Portraits and doorways whizzed past until she took a sharp corner and found herself falling into a wall. It was a dead end. Breathing laboured, she tried to hear anything above the sound of her heart. There was that voice again. Panicking, she whipped around. A door. There was black, locked door. Casting a fearful glance over her shoulder she pointed her wand and muttered "Alohomora". A mechanism clicked inside the wood and she rushed into the room. It was a classroom she had never seen before, fairly unused with the chairs up and nothing on the walls. After locking the exit behind her, she stumbled around dusty desks to the back of the room where there was another, smaller door. It opened outward, but revealed only a supply closet with a large spider spinning a web between two shelves. She slammed it shut and turned, crouching down behind the teacher's desk.

There wasn't any sound and she hoped that the ghost didn't know where she had gone. It was pointless wishing things, of course. When had wishing ever brought anything good? The temperature in the room seemed to drop slightly and dust rose into the air as if there were a sudden breeze. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. The hand clutching her wand was clammy with perspiration. Magic would be pointless against someone already dead.

"Please, please, please, please," she repeated over and over, "just one bloody year without dark wizards trying to kill me."

"Hermione." The voice sounded more real than it did earlier, closer and more earthly. It was a familiar voice and her eyes snapped open wide in shock when she recognised it. Her wand clattered to the floor as she pulled herself to her feet.

"George?"

"Close, but no cigar." The apparition floated above a desk in the front row, a cheeky half-grin on the opaque, pearlescent face.

For a minute Hermione was speechless, her heart fluttering in her chest. Her emotions swung wildly from anger to relief to joy to sadness to shock.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already."

"Fred."

"Hello, Hermione."

She could hear her blood surging in her ears. "It was you. All of it. The… the dungeons and the trophy room…" Shock had stolen her voice and relief brought tears to her eyes.

Fred drifted closer and shrugged. "Well what would expect me to do? Invisible and alone in the castle with Filch."

Hermione staggered slightly and leaned onto the teacher's desk for support. One hand landed on a small brass paperweight. Her astonishment made way for anger again and she flung it as hard as she could at the spectre of her dead friend. Surprised, he tried to dodge it, but wasn't fast enough and it went straight through him, crashing into the far wall.

"What was that for?"

"You complete and utter jerk." She picked up a goblet and threw that. "You twat! You imbecilic, moronic blast-ended newt!" An inkwell followed the goblet and with nothing else on the desk, Hermione picked up the chair and swung that as well. It collided with a desk and broke.

Fred had floated to the corner, backing away from the fiery brunette. She had picked up her wand and was storming over to him.

"Hermione, stop, what are you trying to accomplish?"

"What were _you_ trying to accomplish when you were scaring everyone silly?"

"I was just having some fun with ol' Angus."

"Fun? Everyone thought you were dead!"

"I am dead, Hermione." His smile was gone now and now just looked grey and cheerless.

Her anger dwindled. She stood, staring at the drab outfit he had died in, scars scattered over his face. For a while she was quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I guess I did take it a bit far. I shouldn't have chased you like I did."

"I actually thought you were Voldemort or Bellatrix Lestrange," she admitted.

"Nah, they moved on to worse place. Although, whatever's worse than being stuck at school, I have no idea."

Hermione regarded his returned smile with suspicion. "Why are you still here? Do you have some sort of unfinished business?"

"I'm waiting for George, I suppose," he answered with a shrug. "We came into this world together and we're going out together. Where is everyone else, anyway?"

Hermione took a seat on top of one of the tables and rested her chin on her hands, "Ginny and Luna went home for the holidays and Ron and Harry decided not to finish their last year."

"Trust you to choose to stay in school."

"Look who's talking." They smiled at each other.

"Tell me what everyone's up to."

She took a deep breath. They had a lot to talk about.


	14. The Reunion

It was a relief for the headmistress when Hermione told her who the ghost was, but when Filch heard the news his face went a pale green and threatened to quit. McGonagall spent two hours convincing him that Fred would behave himself and Hermione had to talk the Weasley spirit into agreeing to a truce. At the end of the day they discussed how he would come out to his family. Minerva wanted to send them a message straight away but Hermione thought it would be better for them to find out in person. Fred agreed with her and they sent an owl with a request that the entire family come to Hogwarts the day before the other students returned from holidays. It was quickly settled that the Weasleys and Harry would take the train to Hogsmeade and a carriage would bring them to the school.

Hermione was nervous about seeing everyone again. Since Ron broke up with her she hadn't seen any of them other than Ginny. At the same time she was glad to get to see Harry. The night before the reunion she dined with Minerva who told her that Madame Pomfrey would be returning at the same time and that they'd see her together for a potion to stop the nightmares. She didn't sleep well that night. Nervousness kept her awake thinking about what she was going to say to Ron and Molly. Would they be happy to see her or would they avoid her? Why hadn't Ron written to her since he broke up with her? She was still awake when the cat appeared at her window at 3:30 in the morning. She let it in and it looked disapproving. It curled up on her bed and she lay beside it, stroking its soft black fur until sleep took over.

The next morning the sun woke Hermione, its piercing light forcing its way between her eyelids. When she opened her eyes, squinting away she was confused. The window was on the other side of the room. For the light to reach her bed it must be past midday. The watch on her nightstand confirmed it. It was two thirty on Sunday afternoon. The Weasleys would be arriving at Hogsmeade station at three. Groggy, but now awake she rushed from her room with robes under her arms to the prefects' bathroom. After a quick bath she dressed and ran to the headmistress' tower. Professor McGonagall was pulling on the shimmering blue robe Hermione had made her when she entered the room.

"I thought you were going to be late, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, I overslept."

"I know."

Minerva adjusted her hat as she observed Hermione. She looked a fright- damp hair, shirt askew, baggy jeans ripped, blotchy faced and red eyed. The older woman pushed a wet strand of hair from Hermione's face and pointed her wand. "Close your eyes." Warmth blasted from the tip of it, quickly drying the girl's frizzy hair. When she lowered her wand, Minerva handed her a hair tie to tame the mane. "That's a little better, dear." They gazed at each other a moment before the elder turned suddenly and cleared her throat. "If you can fix your jeans then we can hurry down to the school's gates."

Hermione looked down at her knees where the denim had worn into holes. "Oh right." With a flick of her wand they looked new again and the two women walked quickly to the school's entrance.

They only just made it in time, the two thestral drawn carriages rocking as they arrived. The sight of the gruesome looking animals made Hermione nervous, but not as much as seeing Ron in the cab's square window. Unconsciously, one of her hands gripped Minerva's cloak. The blue flames tickled her arm and distracted her momentarily.

When they had come to a stop the doors opened and a sea of red headed Weasleys poured out. From the closest carriage came Molly, Arthur, Bill and Percy and the one a tad further away carried George, Ginny, Ron and at last, Harry. At the sight of him Hermione's anxieties crumbled and she rushed forward with a smile.

"Hermione!" Harry met her with a hug before the Weasley parents took turns embracing her. George ruffled her hair and she greeted the two older boys with a grin. Ron was the only one who lingered away from her, his hands in his pockets. Seeing that he wasn't going to come to her, Hermione stepped forward. He wasn't as scary as she had expected him to be- he was just the same silly boy he always had been. The only differences were his eyes lacking the sparkle that used to welcome her and his missing bright smile. She wondered what had happened to make him look at her with so much disdain. They hugged awkwardly. His arms were stiff and his body didn't warm her at all. She could still feel the winter's bite.

Everyone filed inside, brushing the snow from their hair. Minerva was in discussion with Mr and Mrs Weasley, so Hermione glued herself to Harry's side and listened to his description of life at Grimauld Place. Despite trying to pay attention, her eyes drifted towards Ron who was glaring at the ground as if it had insulted him personally. The group moved to the Great Hall where a single table was laden with coffee pots and cups, cookies and cake. The plan was to have everyone sitting and comfortable so McGonagall could reveal the news gracefully before Hermione brought Fred in (who was waiting outside).

That was the plan.

Things were going well. Everyone was glad to be there (although George occasionally stopped talking mid-sentence as if waiting for someone to finish them) and they were all curious as to why they had been invited. Molly had just asked for an explanation so Hermione rose at the same time as Minerva, and began to make her way to the door. She didn't make it more than ten steps when there was a sound like a small cannon and confetti burst from the ceiling. A banner declaring "Surprise" dropped behind the teachers' table and Fred swooped out from the wall above the door.

Ginny screamed. Percy and Ron both fell back out of their seats and George went pale. Hermione would say he looked as if he'd seen a ghost, but… well... Minerva was the only one who wasn't in shock as she covered her face with a hand, vexed.

"Fred?" Molly had stood to haul Ron up by the scruff and was staring, wide eyed at her dead son.

"Hi mum," was all he said.

Hermione quickly moved out of the way as Mrs Weasley stepped slowly closer. The rest of the family was on their feet now and following suit.

"You're okay?" Ron was beside Hermione now, but he didn't spare her a look.

"Oh ickle-Ronikins, do I look okay to you?"

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "You're dead."

"Really now, have you been hit with a bludger?"

Arthur put an arm around Molly who was weeping softly.

"No, don't cry, mum, I'm still here- you're supposed to be happy."

"You prick!" George spoke for the first time. "We all mourned you." His hands were balled at his side, white knuckled and shaking from anger.

Seeing he had messed up, Fred raised his opaque hands in surrender and spoke quickly in his own defence. "It's not my fault, mate. It took forever for me to figure out how to pull this together. And don't go throwing things either, Hermione already tried it."

At this point Hermione had begun to slink towards the back of the room. She didn't want to get in the way of a family matter. Only Harry and Minerva turned to see her leave. At the front of the room behind the headmaster's table was a smaller door that she opened quietly. Before exiting, she look back once at the reunited family. Fred must've made a joke because a couple of them laughed and someone cast a loud spell. The door closed with a loud creak.

Hermione sat in the light corridor on a bench facing the open window. From here she could see trees and mountains all covered in a soft white glean. It was peaceful. A couple of minutes passed before the door opened again. She turned to see Harry and stood to face him. He was taller than she remembered and had gotten a haircut, although it was as messy as ever. He slung an arm around her shoulders when he reached her and for a few moments they stood like that, looking out the window. After a while they began to talk softly. Hermione was hesitant to talk about herself at first, but Harry was familiar and their conversations were always comfortable, so she eventually relented to his prodding. Schoolwork, friends, Hogsmeade- he wanted to know everything she had been up to, but most importantly he wanted to know how she really was.

"I mean it when I say I'm fine, Harry. For a while I was really… sad. It was like I was living with a dementor, but in the past few weeks I've been okay almost. Min- Professor McGonagall has made me feel safer. She's been really great and taken good care of me." She tried to hide the smile growing on her face. She didn't want her friend to get the wrong idea. "I have been having these nightmares, though." Her face dropped again and when she turned, Harry was nodding.

"I get them too. Every night."

She hesitated before asking the next question. "Do you ever have them while you're awake?"

"Sort of. Sometimes when we're at Auror training I have flashbacks to Voldemort. Seeing Sirius and the others all over again."

Hermione wiped her face. "It's awful that you have them too, but I'm glad I'm not alone."

"You were never alone, 'Mione. We're all still here for you."

"Ron's not." Glancing back at the door to the great hall where muffled laughter could be heard made her chest ache. Despite everything, she still missed him.

"Ron can be an idiot sometimes, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care."

"He won't talk to me. He won't even write. I don't know what I did wrong."

Harry put a hand on her back and sighed softly, "I think losing Fred messed him up pretty bad. I mean, everyone changed after last year. Ginny's been distant, you're practically impossible to get a hold of and George hardly smiles anymore. I think having Fred back will help things get back to normal. Now Ron's got some closure he might come around again."

The suggestion was a small consolation, but surprisingly it made her feel better. It was a glimmer of hope for normalcy and Hermione clung to it. "That helps, Harry. Thanks."

The Boy Who Lived held Hermione's hand while he looked out over the forest. Being together again brought them both peace, even if it was just for a few hours. They stood, leaning against each other for a time before he broke the silence again. "You know he uses the Marauder's map every night. He borrowed it ages ago and never returned it. Said he wanted to make sure you and Ginny were safe." He paused, unsure whether he was pushing it, "I'm sure he still loves you. He's just afraid of losing you."

The revelation that her ex-boyfriend had been watching her was slightly disconcerting, but at the same time Hermione found solace in Harry's words. For the time she chose contentment in the knowledge that he still cared for her. That was what she wanted, she told herself.

For a while they spoke mainly about their studies, which was a more comfortable subject for both. Harry was enjoying his time at the auror academy and reported that even Ron was throwing himself into his work. They seemed to be having a ball, and Hermione was happy to sit and listen, occasionally offering tips on research and assessment.

They carried on for some time in companionable dialogue when the door to the Great Hall opened. Hermione had been leaning on Harry, her head on his shoulder, but straightened herself up the moment she saw the disapproving, freckled face.

"Ron." She rose with Harry, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"I was wondering where the two of you had gone." The statement sounded more accusing than compassionate and it reminded Hermione of their time with the locket-shaped horcrux. There was the same thinness to his mouth and bags under his eyes. They all looked as if they were still carrying a piece of the war inside them.

"We thought your family would like some time alone," Harry said when he saw Hermione had nothing to say.

"You know you're a member of the family, Harry." It felt like a dig at Hermione and it stung.

"I thought having Fred back would make you happy," she said.

"My brother's still dead, Hermione. This doesn't change that."

Hermione went paler. She didn't mean it like that. "I know. I just meant…"

"You thought this would make everything else fine. You thought I would forgive you."

"What is your problem, Ronald?" Frustration swelled. Was there nothing she could do right? "First you break up with me for no reason, then you refuse to return my letters and now you're acting like I'm the one who killed Fred. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Harry moved away from her, obviously not wanting to get between them while Ron's face turned beetroot red.

"You really think you can play innocent? I know everything."

"Know what, Ron? You're not making any sense." Hermione's voice had grown hard. She wasn't pleading any more- she was demanding to know what had gotten into him.

"The marauders map. I've been watching you with it." He said it as though it would make everything clear, but Hermione just shook her head in bewilderment.

"Apart from confirming you're an utter creep, what else is that supposed to prove?"

Ron looked affronted by the insult. He probably thought it had been romantic to watch her sleep. His resolve returned after a moment and he took two angry steps towards Hermione, who backed away in alarm.

"It proves that you've been _spending time_ with McGonagall." He spat the name in disgust while Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"So what if I have? I'm allowed to be friends with whoever I want."

"Friends? Is that what you do with friends?"

Hermione felt her face warming up in embarrassment. She had figured out what he was implying and the thought made her blush. "Well, she's treated me better in the last few months than you have."

"So you admit it?" He pointed at her and she flinched.

"Admit what, Ron? That I eat my meals with Minerva? That I spent Christmas at her house? That I like being with her?"

"You can try and fool Harry if you want, but I know she goes back to your room. I know all about your sick perversion."

Hermione had backed up against the window, Harry beside her staring with a raised eyebrow. He looked shocked. Her face and neck were red and she felt heat all over. "He's lying, Harry," she said in a hiss. "Minerva would never do that."

Ron lit up triumphantly while Harry looked even more shocked. "But you would?" The dark haired boy stared at her.

"I- No, I mean. I didn't say that." Hermione sputtered. She felt trapped and the realisation that she absolutely would surprised her as much as her friends. "That's entirely beside the point. The fact is that I haven't. Either the map's lying, or Ron is." She didn't know who she was trying to convince anymore.

Harry looked from one friend to the other as if deciding who to believe. He already knew the map never lied, but both of his friends seemed so certain. "What if McGonagall is, but you just don't know about it?" He suggested as he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"She wouldn't do that," she repeated angrily.

"'Mione, you told me you found a cat. That it sometimes stays with you. The professor's animagus-"

"She wouldn't do that!" It came out in a yell, knocking both of the boys off balance. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself before starting again, "I know about her animagus, Harry. I'm not daft." She didn't want to believe what he was saying and her mind was racing to prove him wrong. "The markings, though. Minerva's cat-form has markings around the eyes. My cat doesn't, so it can't be her." The logic comforted her and she felt herself calming down. Harry didn't seem persuaded, though. "She'd never do anything to hurt me, and that's all the reassurance I need."

Harry turned his eyes down in submission, but Ron looked like he wanted to argue some more. Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it threateningly. Her hand shook. Slowly, he backed away and after flashing a triumphant grin, fled to the Great Hall again.

Finally, she turned to the boy who lived and gave him a small, watery smile. "You should go back in, too," she said, "Like Ron said, you're a part of the family."

"I don't want to leave you. You shouldn't be alone." His heart was in the right place (it always was), but Hermione didn't want him to see her cry.

"I'm not. I have Minerva."

"Do you really think-"

"Harry, just go." She was weary, but resolute and he knew she wouldn't change her mind.

"Okay, but I want you to come too."

"I will. I'll follow in a minute. I just need some time to myself."

He pulled her into a hug. She sighed against his shoulder. When they pulled away again he put his hand on her shoulder before turning and walking back through the door, stopping once to cast a worried glance her way. "I love you," he said and she just smiled and nodded.

Alone again, Hermione leaned against the wall, her head beginning to throb. The conflict with Ron had drained her of energy, leaving her tired and upset. She wanted to sleep and not wake up again. She wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt her. All of her anger dissolved into tears that ran down her face in rivulets. How did everything get so messed up? What had she done to deserve this? She waited until her face had dried and then waited some more, hoping her eyes weren't too red. When she finally went inside, everyone was sitting around the table having afternoon tea. Fred was showing off and Ron was glaring at McGonagall from the other end of the table. She slid into the seat beside the older witch and kept her eyes down until it was over.


	15. Hermione's Safe Place

After seeing Harry and the Weasleys off, Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in the library between two shelves far from the entrance. She had transfigured a book into a pillow and was propped up against the wall with more books piled like a wall around her. First she read a book on animagi and the magic used to transform them. It seemed like a complicated process and she was astonished that all the marauders had succeeded. Some time after finishing it, she read about magic in Scotland, magical creatures and even about squibs. The afternoon light turn red at the window then died down completely. As time wore on her back began to ache and her stomach growled but she kept on studying into the night. In this space far from anyone felt safe and all her own. She never wanted to leave.

It was very late when she heard footsteps coming from the entrance. They were business like and quick, pausing every so often. Holding her breath, Hermione squeezed herself as far back as possible, wishing that the person would go away. She already knew who it was and despite feeling bad about not going to dinner, she didn't want to see the one person who could make her talk.

"Hermione?" McGonagall's voice called to her, but she ignored it and when the footsteps retreated she sighed with relief.

Hermione wasn't sure why she was hiding from her friend; a friend she had defended earlier in the day. A part of it was that she was confused by her feelings for the witch, but some of it could be attributed to the guilt she felt from Ron's rage. She didn't want to think about that disastrous reunion, so she turned her mind back to her book.

The minutes dragged on and she found it harder and harder to concentrate on the alchemy text. Her mind kept wandering back to Minerva. She wanted to run to her and confess everything about the day, about Ron and how much he scared her, however she feared that she would confess to liking her. Really liking her. And that couldn't end well.

A loud meow – almost a guttural growl – made her jolt in surprise. Leaning around her wall of books, she was almost relieved to see it was a large scruffy grey cat with patches of hair missing. After her encounter with the Basilisk, Mrs Norris had recovered well and was as moody as ever, but Hermione felt an almost kinship with her fellow victim. Not that she wasn't still a little bit terrified of her.

"You scared me half to death." She muttered in annoyance. This year with her head-girl privileges Mrs Norris posed little threat to Hermione and she had grown used to seeing Filch's pet around.

The animal made that wretched noise again and Hermione put her book aside.

"Come here, Mrs Norris," she crooned softly, motioning with a finger.

The cat cocked her head as if confused that a student wasn't afraid and took a few cautious steps forward.

"That's right, girl, come on, I won't hurt you."

She slowly padded over and sniffed Hermione's hand, shrinking back when it was lowered to her head. After a few moments of getting used to each other, the cat finally moved close enough for Hermione to touch her.

"You're not so scary, are you, puss?"

The animal made a noise that sounded like a gurgling. Hermione assumed it was purring and continued to run her hand through the thinning fur. When she came to close to the tail, though, Mrs Norris bolted back to the end of the shelves and gave a disapproving look before skulking off. Hermione considered going after her, but thought the better of it. She wanted to stay in her safe place for a little while longer.

Hermione had just gotten comfortable again, her mind settled by the encounter with Mrs Norris, when footsteps began to sound in the hall again. She held still, worried that it might be Filch, but saw the feet that approached from between the shelves, those long legs and pointed boots with the trailing green robe could only be McGonagall.

Minerva stopped and turned at the row of shelves where Hermione was hiding. They couldn't see each other over the pile of books, but Hermione could hear her tapping her foot crossly.

"Hermione, you're going to worry me to death one day." With a wave of her wand, the professor parted the books so she could approach the young witch. "You missed our date."

Hermione knew she didn't mean the word that way, but her face still twitched into a frown. "I know. I just needed some time to myself."

Unimpressed by the excuse, McGonagall moved closer and towered there, candlelight flickering over her features. Hermione looked gaunt compared to her proud face.

"What happened today?" She asked, not letting her annoyance make its way into her voice, "When you and the boys returned this afternoon you all seemed so downcast. I thought the three of you would be happy to see each other."

"It's complicated." Hermione mumbled. She didn't really want to go over the whole exchange.

"I can tell something happened to upset you."

"Nothing happened," she snapped, wincing at how forced it sounded. "I'm fine."

There was that look. That purposeful look that showed Minerva wouldn't be shaken off so easily. McGonagall transfigured the pile of books into a chair and perched on it, leaning forward slightly so she was closer to Hermione's level.

"You've been avoiding me since this afternoon. Have I done something wrong?" Her voice was soft and caring, but the younger witch couldn't help but feel guilty.

"It's not you. It's Ron."

McGonagall's mouth thinned. "I see. Did he hurt you?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "He'd never do anything to hurt me. I mean, not on purpose. He's just… jealous, I think. He blames me. It's stupid. I shouldn't have let him get under my skin." She made herself slow down. She didn't know how much to say. Hell, she didn't want to say anything, but the words kept slipping from her mouth. "He says I've been cheating on him." She pinched the bridge of her nose. Saying it out loud, she couldn't believe he had the gall to accuse her like that. Maybe carrying Voldemort's horcrux had addled his brain.

"Oh." Minerva was quiet for a moment and her brow creased slightly. "Is it Harry?"

Hermione almost laughed in surprise. "What? No. He thinks… he thinks it's," she stammered, "you." There, she said it. She said exactly what she hadn't wanted to say. Glancing from under her fringe, she hoped it would be brushed off, but Minerva looked outright horrified.

Gaping, McGonagall tried to compose herself before exclaiming, "That's preposterous! Where did he get such a ridiculous notion?"

Looking away again, Hermione flushed with embarrassment. It wasn't that bad, was it? Although she hadn't expected her friend's feelings to be anything more than platonic, it still hurt. A lot more than she thought. She looked away again and clutched her knees close to her chest.

"He knows we've spent time together," was all she offered in explanation. She didn't want to let on about the map or how the dismissal made her feel.

Her reaction must've given her away a little, but Minerva misinterpreted it. "It's just nonsense, dear, and he has no idea what he's talking about. Don't let his accusations get to you."

"I'm not." Standing up jerkily, she picked up her pillow. "I'm going to go to bed now. I just… today took a lot out of me."

McGonagall still looked worried and as she stood, she reached out with a hand but pulling back at the last second. "I understand. It's been a difficult day for you. Would you like me to send up some supper?"

"No." Hermione responded quickly. The last thing she wanted was to eat or see anyone else. In a hurry, she returned the books to their proper places and turned her back on her friend.

The headmistress followed her as she walked into the hall and watched with unease as the girl hurried up the stair case. Something was still wrong, but Hermione hardly seemed ready to tell her about it. She could wait to find out.


	16. Ginny's Surprise

Hermione woke up early the next morning. She had retired as soon as she returned to her room the previous night. Despite her disbelief in everything the boys had told her, she still wasn't in the mood to play with the cat. She felt some guilt at this decision, but by the time she had awoken, she had forgotten about it. She had plenty to do that day. The rest of the student body was returning and as Head Girl she had a responsibility to meet them at the Hogsmeade train station.

After spending the morning and most of the afternoon in her room, reading up on the new syllabus for Arithmacy and History of Magic, she visited the kitchen for tea and to ensure that the preparations were going well. Midway through the afternoon she made her way to the Entrance Hall where a number of familiar faces greeted her. Most of the teachers had returned from their holidays the previous night and a couple were joining her and McGonagall to meet the train. She was thankful that the two of them weren't alone, worried the awkwardness would make the task at hand more difficult.

Four of them, Hermione, Minerva, Flitwick and Hagrid made their way to the waiting Thestral carriage which they squashed in together. For the entirety of the ride Flitwick chattered in his squeaky, excited voice to the headmistress while Hermione listened attentively to Hagrid. He regaled his story of mingling with the non-human community of centaurs, veela and giants in the Hoia-Baciu forest of Romania. The fact that there were independent communities of non-human magic folk fascinated her and she promised to visit him later to hear more. Despite her interest, her mind kept slipping away. Minerva was sitting beside her, legs bumping as the carriage jolted side to side. The older woman seemed not to notice, attention a hundred percent on her short companion. Only when Hermione had turned to look out the window would she glance over.

They arrived at the train station within twenty minutes and Hermione stretched her cramped muscles. Hagrid's size meant there had been very little room for the rest of them. She shuffled her feet and wandered down the platform while the teachers talked about the new semester. They didn't have to wait long and Hermione soon heard the train whistle in the distance long before she saw it. Rejoining the others, she watched as the looming black and red Hogwarts Express pulled up, steam billowing as it sighed. The doors opened and Minerva and Hagrid stepped forward to organize the hoard of students piling out, some in robes, others bundled up in jeans and hoodies. The mass of bodies was confused until they were separated into groups.

The Head Boy and Prefects who emerged from the front car saw her waiting patiently to the side and came her way, greeting her awkwardly. Hermione hadn't been very friendly towards them earlier in the year, her self-imposed isolation taking a toll on her responsibilities, but they seemed like good kids. Following Minerva's instruction, Hermione and the girl prefect for Hufflepuff (a chipper thing named Isobelle Wirst) took control of one portion of the student body and led them back to the Thestrals. Ahead of her in, the first group, Hermione could just make out the point of McGonagall's hat and a flame of red hair that must've been Ginny.

After a long, impatient wait for the Thestrals to return, their cluster of students clambered into the carriages, Hermione bringing up the rear. The hustle and bustle of the children combined with the stress of assuring the younger ones that _yes your cat will be fine_ sapped Hermione's energy. At least when they made it back to the castle all she had to do was herd them into the great hall. Excitedly, the students took their places at the so-far empty tables and Hermione was ready to go back to her room, but in a cursory glance around the hall she made eye contact with Ginny who had been waving. She smiled. They hadn't been able to talk much the previous day given all that had happened and Ginny had returned with her family for one last night with Harry.

After a moment of debating whether she had the energy, Hermione took a seat beside her friend who immediately launched into a discussion about a Quidditch match Harry had taken her to see with Ron and someone else (who suspiciously wasn't named). Hermione had read about it in their letters, but she didn't mind hearing about it again. She was glad Ginny and Harry were happy, and the speckled grin was infectious. Feeling happier, they talked until the entire student body had found its way into the hall and the teachers had taken their seats.

Minerva gave a short speech encouraging a studious attitude and good behaviour, finishing by raising a goblet to absent friends (something she said often). She glanced Hermione's way and nodded slightly before putting the goblet to her lips. The younger witch blushed and turned back to the table which had become magically covered with all kinds of foods. If Ginny noticed, she didn't mention it, because Fred had appeared from nowhere and was enthusing with his sister. They filled their plates and even Hermione felt hungry enough to try a bit of everything.

The sky shown in the bewitched ceiling turned from stormy grey to black and Hermione felt her energy wane. Everyone was full and tired from travelling, so McGonagall bade them all good night. Hermione went to the head of the table and when her wards were ready, she led the back to the dormitory.

It had been the first time in a long while that Hermione had eaten dinner in the Great Hall and she was both relieved it was over and content with the way it had gone. She hadn't noticed Ginny's absence over the break, but now she was with her friend again she was realised she had missed her vigour. It was still early evening, so she decided to sit a while in the common room where several others took up seats to play chess or discuss their holidays.

The two girls sat together and talked, Ginny most interested in Hermione's time spent at McGonagall Manor (though the older girl was hesitant to give too much information) and what had happened the previous day. They talked about their upcoming exams, Fred and Harry, but avoided the topic of Ron. It was still a touchy subject and Hermione felt guarded. She didn't know if he had told anyone else about his accusation, but didn't want to bring it up to find out.

Finally exhausted from the events of the last few days, Hermione suggested they retire. They had one day left before classes officially began and she intended to see Luna and Hagrid as well as make the visit to Madame Pomphrey for something to quell her nightmares. Ginny understood, she wanted the quidditch team to start practicing immediately. They rose from the cushiony lounge and started to say goodnight. Hermione was about to leave through the passageway when Ginny called for her to wait. Turning, she saw the red head disappearing up the stairs into the girls' dormitory. She emerged again a minute later, waving piece of parchment.

"Harry said to give you this. He said you already knew what it was, so don't let the teachers get it." She gave a secretive wink while Hermione stared at it, hesitating as an overwhelming sense of doom engulfed her. Realising she hadn't moved, she cleared her throat and took it.

"Thanks, Ginny." Hermione murmured.

"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast?"

She nodded mutely.

As she returned to her room, she clutched the Marauder's Map in front of her. She knew nothing good could come of this.

Notes:: I'm officially on holidays so no more 3000 word assignments and seeing as I don't have a social life you can bet your bottom galleon I'll be way more active. I'm also working on a few one-shots to balance out the amount of angst that's coming up in the next few chapters, so keep an eye out for that. Happy reading! (also I mega ultra suck at titles)


	17. Potion For Dreamless Sleep

Hermione had a lot to accomplish in one day and she had to do it on barely three hours sleep. She had stowed the map away in her desk, swearing not to give into temptation, but it was on her mind constantly, making it impossible to fall asleep. When she finally did leave the world of the waking it continued to torment her in the form of a nightmare. She became a set of inky footprints racing around a castle made of paper trying to hide from the enormous black shadow that chased her. Waking in a cold sweat, Hermione pulled on some warm robes and left her room to pace the halls until sunrise.

Ginny was the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and she ran a tight ship. On the first day back at Hogwarts she already had the entire team on the field training just after breakfast. With nothing yet to do, Hermione made her way down to the pitch and sat on the stands. She had a book in one hand, but she didn't open it, choosing instead to cheer on her friend. Half an hour later she was joined by Luna who sat beside her quietly, contemplating the contents of the Quibbler. She was in her own world as always but Hermione didn't mind. She was happy not to be expected to make small talk when her mind was already so full. After quidditch practice Ginny joined the two other friends and made friendly banter, joking that it was so good to see Hermione out of her room. This didn't make the older girl feel much better about it, but she smiled to hide it.

They walked together to Hagrid's hut where he was busying himself out the back. His large black dog bounded to meet the girls, slobbering over Hermione's robe in his excitement. Again, it was mentioned in good nature that it was a surprise to see Hermione out of her room, but this time Hagrid made her feel safe.

"It's good to see you, 'Mione, me 'n Fang missed you last semester. Yer a good kid."

Hermione promised to visit more often, maybe every Sunday for tea and cake (which she couldn't eat much of it was so difficult to chew).

The four of them shared their holiday experiences, Hermione not wanting to let on much about McGonagall Manor. It was nearly noon when Hermione excused herself. She had a meeting with the Head Boy and Prefects at 2, but she was feeling overwhelmed by the number of people. Even though these three were her close friends, she wasn't used to such long conversations and it felt like a large bezoar stone had rooted itself in her stomach.

For an hour Hermione hid on the outskirts of the forest, wandering past the tree line into the underbrush. It was quiet here except for the odd bird or insect and it felt safe despite all the horrors the woods supposedly hid. Safe was something she was constantly looking for and sometimes what seemed safest was the most dangerous. Like- she stopped herself from thinking more. It would only make her unwell. Now needing something to do, she went back to the castle to the assigned room where the student council would meet.

After assigning timetables for when they would be patrolling (weekends for the Prefects, week days for her and the Head Boy) and listening to the suggestions they all had Hermione was drained. Not only was she tired from lack of sleep, she was emotionally exhausted and just wanted to curl up in her room and maybe cry. However, she had one more chore before she could retire.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for her on the corner outside the infirmary at 3:30. Hermione was late and immediately began to launch into an apology and explanation about why the student council meeting had run late. However, seeing the distress bubbling up in her young friend, Minerva quietened her and touched her gently on the arm.

"It's okay, darling, I haven't been here long and Poppy works all day."

Hermione felt her anguish dim in the calming presence of Minerva and nodded, the redness in her eyes receding. She murmured a thank you and followed her into the hospital wing.

Madame Pomphrey wore her white nurse robes as always and was busying herself with stocking and organising potions and brews in a glass-doored cupboard. She saw them and indicated towards a bed for Hermione to sit on while Minerva opted to stand by her.

"I've already been informed by the headmistress that you have night mares and sleep disturbances?" She was straight to business, clucking her tongue as if Hermione had purposely set out to cause it.

"I- yes."

"You and Mister Potter have a lot in common then."

Hermione wondered about doctor-patient confidentiality, but kept her mouth shut. She seemed like a nice enough witch, but the doctor was quite intimidating.

"I can give you the Potion for Dreamless Sleep. If you follow the instructions and take it every night you ought to sleep like a baby."

"Are there any side-effects?" Hermione asked. She didn't sound nearly as confident as she wanted to.

"Side-effects?" Both of the older witches eyed her curiously.

"You know, light-headedness, cotton mouth, weight gain?" She trailed off.

"This potion stops dreams. It doesn't make you gain weight." The nurse's tone was almost mocking.

Hermione bit down an apology. She knew in the muggle world most medicines had some undesirable affects. Clearly this didn't happen with potions. Unless you used the wrong ingredient, like cat hair.

Madame Pomfrey gave her a bottle of bright purple liquid and a piece of parchment with instructions on it, telling her to come back for a refill when she ran out. Thankfully, Hermione took them and left, waiting a few moments for Minerva to appear. When asked if she was still interested in dinner, Hermione turned down the invitation. She was just too tired and wanted to sleep. She promised to have something sent up from the kitchen. They parted ways with after an awkward moment where Hermione wanted to hug the older witch, but knew she couldn't.

Hermione put the potion on the nightstand and sat on her bed, kicking her shoes off and taking off her top layers of clothes. The sun was just beginning to set outside her window, setting the snowy mountains aglitter. It was a beautiful sight, but her eyes fell away from it and came to rest on her desk. More precisely, on the drawer of her desk in which the map was nestled. She groaned. In all the excitement and anxiety of the day she had forgotten she even had the blasted thing. Why would Harry even give it to her? To protect it? So she knew Ron wasn't using it? To prove something? She didn't know and it was killing her. If there was something fishy going on she should find out, but she didn't want to stoop to Ron's level by spying on anyone. Desperate to take her mind off it she decided to write to Harry. Practice charms. Knit. Anything except take out the map.

All night Hermione worked, but her mind and her eyes were constantly drawn to the drawer. There was that nagging curiosity begging for just one look, but she had been so angry at Ron for using it to watch her. It felt like a betrayal of trust and she didn't want to make the same mistake with Minerva. Her belief in her close friend's innocence was strong, but her faith that Harry would never deceive her was equally so.

After taking a bath and collecting a plate of food from the kitchens, Hermione took out the map and placed it on her desk beside her plate. It was taunting her and she could barely manage a bite to eat. Frustrated, she rose and began to pace her room, turning every so often to glance at the map. Would looking at it really be that big of a deal? Minerva wouldn't know and she wouldn't have to admit it to the boys. Clenching her fists, she dropped onto her bed and glared at it angrily. She didn't want to entertain the thought of abusing its magic the way Ron did, but she couldn't help it. Hesitantly, she went back to her desk and picked up the parchment.

She lay back on her bed and opened it, just observing the way the paper was woven together, the coarseness of the grains and the smell of ink. Her wand was beside the bed and she took it up, hesitating. Just one look wouldn't hurt. Her curiosity grew until she gave in to the urge.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Her voice wavered. Even the revealing spell was telling her that what she was doing was wrong.

Ink curled its way over the parchment, lines appearing for walls and names and titles. Hers was the first name to appear, looping letters exposing her position in her room. Names materialized in an outwards spiral from her own. Someone was walking down the corridor, another was pacing between two statues. Ginny was out on the quidditch pitch with others she identified as the Gryffindor team. Running her finger over the walls, Hermione finally found the name she was looking for. Minerva was in her office, still and unmoving.

Satisfied, Hermione put the paper beside her bed and picked up the potion she had been prescribed. Taking the suggested dosage, she turned off her lights and lay back. Already she was feeling drowsy and comfortable, sleep tugging at her to abandon all her worries. It was only after she slipped away into a dreamless sleep that a shadow appeared at her window, the cat watching her sullenly. If Hermione had been awake enough to study the map she'd see the name hanging beside hers. But she didn't.

Like always thanks for all the reviews! They keep me going. Apologies for not posting this chapter sooner- I broke my computer and had to get it fixed.

Next chapter: The cat's out of the bag! (I'm seriously taking title suggestions otherwise the angstiest chapter will have a pun for a name)


	18. The Cat's Out of the Bag

The first day of the term was rushed and awkward feeling. Everyone was excited to be back and resistant to getting on with work. Hermione managed to ignore the chatter during her classes, keeping her nose down and trying not to bring any attention to herself. Most people didn't pay her any mind at all, but there was still a few (particularly between classes) who would point her out as The Girl Who Knows Harry Potter. Mostly these were first and second years, but sometimes others who knew Harry and Ron would ask how they were. She was used to this now and usually suggested they ask Ginny who didn't mind the attention so much. The Weasley girl was practically famous in her own right for her quidditch abilities and brazenness.

During her breaks Hermione went to the library and sat with Luna who seemed quiet even for her. After classes were finished for the day they sat in near silence, Hermione working on her Arithmacy homework and Luna on something that wasn't about school. She wondered if the quiet between them was about her turning down the invitation for Christmas, but before she could ask Luna was gone.

The headmistress was having dinner in the Great Hall, so she wasn't available for their usual meal together, but Hermione felt this was for the best. Since she had admitted to the older woman that Ron suspected something their conversations no longer came naturally. She blamed herself. Why would she say those things? Sitting in her room she knew why. She felt things, strange, beautiful, but forbidden things for her teacher and a part of her wanted to admit them. This would be an awful mistake, though. It was best for all involved if her feelings remained a secret. A deep, dark secret that would never see the light of day. The thought of harbouring an unrequited love hurt, but it was better than the other option of admitting it out loud and being denied. Right?

Hermione sighed. She was sitting on her bed, wand in hand trying to perfect a spell to turn a goblet into smoke which was much more difficult than turning it into something solid. The charm required all her attention, but she had very little of that these days. Her thoughts were churning as always, forming a deep well of regret and embarrassment that she couldn't escape. Frustration peaked into rage and her spell went awry, blasting the goblet into a shower of glittering dust. She hadn't meant to. Panicking, she rushed from her bed, throwing spell after spell at the silver powder on her floor trying to return the item back to its natural state. Swearing loudly at her failed attempts, she dropped to the floor and suppressed a scream with the crook of her arm.

After calming down, Hermione sat on her bed, unable to muster any more energy. She had other work to finish and could definitely improve upon what she had already written, but there was no motivation. For the first six years of her life at Hogwarts she got along on her drive to succeed and not be seen as a failure or a mistake, but now she could barely summon the energy to put a quill to parchment. Sitting back on her bed, she pulled her knees up to her chest and felt her stomach lurch. _I'm going to be sick_.

She was distracted from the pitching in her stomach by a scratching sound she had become accustomed to. She stumbled from her bed, hands out in front of her, legs confused, as she toppled towards her desk. At the last moment she caught herself and pulled herself up. The window latch screeched in complaint from the cold but gave in. There was a gust of cold wind and the cat pounced into the room as she shut the window. Hermione swept the cat into her arms and it purred, not minding the crushing embrace. The sickness was gone and was immediately replaced by the warmth that only the vibrations emanating from the creature could create.

"I've missed you, kitten," she murmured as she carried it back to her bed, sitting with her legs curled beneath her. "I don't know what I would do without you."

The cat was happy to let her stroke it for the length she did, purring its pleasure at the affection. The goblet was forgotten and the day didn't seem so bad now. Like a safety blanket, the warm weight of the cat anchored Hermione, her thoughts no longer tormenting her. She really didn't know how she could cope if the cat had never appeared. She smiled, unmoving.

The cat's satisfied purring lulled her and soon she was ready to prepare for sleep. It was still early in the evening, but the sun was set and she was confident she wouldn't dream so long as she took the potion. Careful not to disturb her pet, she reached over to the nightstand where the Potion for Dreamless Sleep was sitting atop a piece of parchment. She hesitated. Ink was moving about on the paper beneath the vial. The map. Whether intentionally or not, Hermione had pushed it from her mind. Lifting the bottle, she slipped the paper out, her heart thudding heavily. The cat was oblivious to the significance of it.

Hermione ran her finger over the parchment until she found two named knitted together, but clearly printed.

Her throat tightened as she stared in shock. "Oh my god," she whispered, eyes widening. The cat lifted its head, but she was already standing, pushing it from her lap. Forest green eyes watched her. The colour should have been proof enough, but no. She was still stubbornly clinging to the possibility it was a mistake.

The sickness returned worse than ever and she felt her lungs struggle to breathe in panic. "It's not true." She forced the words from her throat, looking directly at the cat. Minerva. It couldn't be true. McGonagall, her friend with whom she shared so much had spectacle shaped markings around her animagus' eyes. "Tell me it's not true." It- she cocked her head in confusion. "Minerva." At the name the cat's eyes widened slightly in recognition. The game was over.

Her mind reeled in shock and numbness engulfed her. Shaking her head, Hermione backed away from the bed towards the door. The map fell to the floor, two names separating slowly. Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall. The cat, the animagus, whatever, jumped to the floor and approached the map, squinting at it.

Hermione ran. She had to prove to herself that it wasn't true. Minerva would never betray her trust like that. The map lies. Her denial was weakening. Of course it was true, but she had to know for sure, as if this wasn't proof enough.

Her lungs strained in her chest and her muscles complained. Her heart was hammering so loud she could hear it and the portraits streaking either side of her blurred together as tears formed and fell. It wasn't a long run, but her body was tired and hungry and complained the whole way. Finally she reached the gargoyle and panted the password, forcing herself to complete the last leg up the stairs and through the headmistress' office. A door to the bedroom and she was there. No one was there.

Breathing heavily, she wiped her eyes and looked around. On a desk was a single pair of glasses. She snatched them up. This was how she got away with it. How very Clark Kent. She couldn't deny it any longer. There were no opposing facts she could grasp, nothing for her stubbornness to cling to in hope. Minerva was the cat. Their friendship was built on lies.

"Hermione," the voice made her spin around. Minerva stood, breathless as well, her face naked without her spectacles, "I can explain."

"Explain?" Hermione's voice was high and hysterical, "Explain what?" She held up the glasses, waving them.

"Please, 'Mione, I know it looks bad, but I have a good reason." How could she remain so calm?

Hermione shook her head. She didn't want to hear any excuses. This was a betrayal greater than anything Hermione had experienced before. This was inexcusable.

"You- you-" her words were failing her. She reiterated what she already knew. "It was you all along."

"Yes."

Minerva took a step forward and Hermione stumbled back. She couldn't think clearly. Her mind was still stuck on the fact their whole friendship was a lie. At last her thoughts presented a new horror. She recoiled, shuddered, gaped. "I told the cat- I told _you_ things." She was breathless.

"I know, I didn't mean for it to be like this." Still so calm, still advancing slowly.

"No, you didn't mean for me to find out! Oh my god," she muttered in realisation, "Harry was right. _Ron_ was right." She laughed manically. Fucking Ron was right. He wasn't paranoid at all! "How could I be so stupid?"

"Darling-"

"No, don't… don't say that. Don't call me that. They were right. They knew. Hell…" she stammered, finally admitting to herself, "I knew. A part of me knew. I'm so stupid."

"Please," Minerva moved towards her again, reaching out for her arm, "just let me tell you why."

Hermione shuddered a silent sob. "I told you I love you. I told you that and you still did it." She squeezed her eyes closed, not wanting to look at her betrayer. Her friend. Her mind was clouding, terrible thoughts and memories. All the progress she had made against them was crumbling. She had to get out.

"I didn't mean for it to-"

A hand touched her shoulder and Hermione screamed. The floodgate of her anguish broke at last. An explosion of energy radiated from her, thrusting Minerva away violently. The shock wave of magic radiated outward in blue light. Glass exploded, mirrors and windows becoming fragments that cut into their faces and arms. When Hermione opened her eyes again, the other woman was on the ground looking at her with fear. There was no time for regret or to wonder at what happened. She panicked.

Dropping the shattered glasses, she streaked from the room, moving fluidly as if she was moving by magic alone and left Minerva on a floor of broken glass.

A/N: I hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment. The angst shall continue for a couple more chapters and will reach its peak. Thanks for all the lovely messages!


	19. Rock Bottom

A/N: Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and tendencies. If this is an issue for you, ctrl f the plus sign and you can skip ahead of that.

Hermione didn't stay in her room. It didn't feel the same, too large and open. Now the window seemed more like a portal through which anyone could enter. As soon as she got back, she gathered up what she needed- her school things, clothes, the potion, the map and a few personal items- and left. There was only one place in the entire castle that she knew would be secure; a place that no one but her could enter unless she permitted it. The Room of Requirement. It gave her everything she needed to make it her home from bed to bathroom.

She spent most of the week in this place of solitude, away from the eyes and voices of others. Curled in a ball on her bed, Hermione found it difficult to leave. Classes were still important to her, but even her favourite subjects no longer held any allure. Even when she went, she performed poorly. Potions required attention she didn't have and she was afraid of what would happen if she raised her wand in Charms. Sometimes at night when she knew others would be in the common rooms she'd sneak down to the kitchens but more often than not she couldn't eat what she took. Not eating made it even more difficult to concentrate in class. Not that she could always muster the energy to go to class. It was easier not to go. Instead, she dozed erratically.

Awake or asleep, her mind continued its turbulence. Even alone and swathed in blankets she felt no calm. _I could have killed her,_ she worried whenever that night came up in her mind. She was still angry. Not just angry, but furious. Minerva had taken away the only peace she had. She had misled her into revealing things she never wanted her friend to know. Were they friends? This wasn't how friends treated each other. Friends were trustworthy and always there for each other the way Harry was. Even Ron, though he treated Hermione poorly, had (in his mind) acted in her interest. She knew she had to apologise to him, but when she put quill to parchment she couldn't muster the simple words. "You were right." How could she not have trusted him after all they'd been through, instead choosing to ignore him and putting her trust in the one person who deceived her?

Rage bubbled inside her but always cycled back into fear which turned to sadness and back to anger. She was scared of what would happen if she got angry, of what could happen if she ever spoke Minerva again. The words, _I could have killed her_ came up again and again spiralling her back into the murk of depression. Despite everything that had happened, she still felt for her friend and didn't want any harm to come to her. Quietly she wept for their friendship.

The school week was spent in this corkscrew of emotion and soon it was Friday. She had gotten nothing done all week and was well behind in homework. Briefly, Hermione considered leave school altogether, but the thought made her tremble. It had taken so much hard work to get this far. Leaving now would be to disappoint everyone who cared about her. She would be a failure. Hermione Granger- the smartest witch of her generation to drop out.

Sitting on the carpeted floor with her head on her knees, Hermione was in the clammy grip of grief. She was alone, no family, not on speaking terms with any of her friends and all she had was her mind and even that was against her. She had nothing. She was nothing. She felt like a waste of space. Something that was there at the cost of everyone's happiness. Pulling back the sleeve of her over-large sweater, Hermione studied the word on her inner arm. The ugly word still looked fresh, red with puss gathered at the edges of the M. Every time she slept it seemed to be cut into her anew. The ugly reminder of her torture at the hands of Bellatrix brought tears to her eyes. No one would love her with this. No one would love her the way she was now. Wiping her face on her other sleeve, she felt the pressure of a year's worth of torment. She wanted to scream and stamp and cry, but mostly she wanted to fold into a black hole and stop existing.

Sadness turned back into anger. Anger at Bellatrix, anger at Minerva, anger at herself. It grew and expanded into hate. She hated everything that had happened to her, but mostly she hated what she had become. There was a pulse, less strong, but the same kind that she experienced in McGonagall's office. It rippled through the air and she heard a crack. On the opposite wall was a mirror now splitting outwards from the middle. One large piece broke away and dropped, splitting into two smaller pieces. Her rage subsided into fear again. She couldn't understand why this kept happening to her, but she worried she would hurt someone. _I could have killed her_.

Pressing her hands against her temples, she pushed hard, trying to force all that hot red emotion down. She hadn't meant to hurt her. She never wanted to hurt anyone ever again and not be hurt in return. It was impossible to stop that from happening. So long as she lived she was a threat to everyone she loved. _So long as I live_. The nuance of the intrusive thought shocked her. It scared her.

Petrified, she stared straight ahead at the shards of glass, sharp and deadly. She was horrified by the idea, but at the same time it seemed like the only way she could escape everything. She didn't want to live any more, not like this, but at the same time she didn't want to die. Not without seeing her parents again, not without saying goodbye to her friends. Not really.

She was unable to control the spinning thoughts. She could leave a goodbye note and then change the Room of Requirement into a place no one would find her body. She could cut open her arms or brew a potion of death. She could hold her wand to her head and use the deadly curse or a cutting charm. She could do it. It could be the last good thing she ever did.

More thoughts bubbled to the surface, offering reasons why her life wasn't worth living. Usually they brought pain and despair, but instead they only gave her peace. A strange calm washed over her and unsteadily, she got to her feet and moved towards the mirror shards. It wouldn't be difficult. It seemed relatively easy and while there were potions to stop pain, she didn't think she'd need it.

Standing in front of the cracked mirror she gazed at her reflection. She look thin, sickly, almost skeletal. Heart thundering, she swallowed a lump in her throat. Hermione bent at the knees and picked up on of the two pieces of mirror and held it lightly in the palm of her hand. It was shaped like shark's tooth with one jagged edge that seemed particularly sharp. She looked up again, almost mesmerised by this idea. For a moment, reflected back at her she thought she saw Minerva, arms out reached and smiling. Happy like they were at the Manor. Hermione's heart leapt and she looked at the glass in her hand. Eyes widening at the realisation of what she was about to do, she panicked.

Dropping the glass like a hot piece of coal, she backed away until her back touched the opposite wall. Slowly, she edged around the side of the room with her eyes locked on the mirror. She wanted to end it. The urge was strong, but her fear of the consequences was stronger. She couldn't do it.

Hermione fled the room. She knew if she stayed there any longer the sadness would take over and she wouldn't have the strength to stop herself again. Arms wrapped around her middle in a hug, she walked. No one was around, so it must've been past lights out and she silently gave thanks for the empty corridors. If she saw anyone at that moment the temptation to return would've won out.

She walked slowly, stopping occasionally to look back. The aching desire to kill herself was begging for her to return, but she managed to persist. Her parents always told her if she ever felt bad ("really, really bad") she should talk to them, but that was impossible. There were only three people she could at that moment. Luna seemed lost in her own troubles and Ginny would tell Harry. By the time she decided she should finally face the woman she had been avoiding all week she was already standing outside her office.

Faltering outside the door, a voice told her she could still turn back. It wasn't too late to go back to the room. She hadn't yet forgiven Minerva for what she had done, but the sensible side of her insisted this was an emergency. Besides, she didn't want her last memories of McGonagall to be of hurting her. The memory brought tears. Finally, she knocked lightly, then a little harder. If the woman didn't come to the door, then Hermione would leave and whatever happened would happen. This seemed reasonable, but her stomach coiled with apprehension. When no one answered she turned and began to descend the staircase. This was it, then. She hadn't even put up a fight. She hadn't even tried. She was weak.

"Hermione?" The headmistress' voice was croaky from sleep and sounded incredulous.

Hermione turned slowly, her body shaking. She looked so vulnerable in her Weasley jumper and sweatpants that swamped her tiny frame. Her eyes burned from crying and she found she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her vision fogged as new tears sprung up.

"Oh, Hermione," the Minerva was coming down the stairs, opening her arms to draw Hermione in.

They embraced and Hermione sniffled against the other woman's shoulder. "I think I'm in trouble," she whispered.

When Hermione finally pulled away, she gazed up at the headmistress who only seemed concerned for her. Minerva led her upstairs, rubbing her back as they walked, murmuring, "It'll be okay, dear. You're safe."

Safe. Safe was something Hermione had been chasing all year and every time she thought she found it, in people, in the Library, in the Room of Requirement, it was snatched away when she needed it most. Still, she accepted the words as the truth. After everything they had been through, this woman was still the best thing in her life and she needed her.

In her office, Minerva hugged Hermione again and kissed her forehead, pushed hair from her face and wiped her tears away. The gentle nurturing only made more spring up and she whispered calming words. Hermione couldn't look her in the eyes, not wanting to see the sadness or the love. She didn't think she deserved it.

"Tell me what happened, darling."

Hermione shook her head, hair falling back over her eyes. Now she was here she didn't want to admit her weakness. "I just need somewhere to stay for the night," she lied, knowing her friend could see through it. She could've easily returned to her Head Girl room, but she hadn't. She came here.

"What for?" The older women's hands were still stroking her head lovingly.

"I just- I'm scared." Her trembling voice failed her.

"Of what?"

She shook her head again, clearing her throat, "of me."

"Oh, my dearest." Another kiss on the forehead and Hermione burst into tears again, hugging her tightly.

"I was going to… I mean, I wanted to… I almost hurt myself and I got scared. I'm sorry." She sobbed and felt the arms tightened around her shoulders.

"Don't be sorry, Hermione, please. I'm sorry. I did you wrong. I was afraid this would happen," she crooned, rocking Hermione, "I thought I could protect you. I thought if I was by your side at night I could stop you from hurting yourself. I was wrong. I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make this right."

Hermione felt the stream of tears lessen. She hadn't been able to understand why her friend would deceive her. Until tonight she hadn't realised that the sadness could get this bad, so she hadn't been able to appreciate how the cat – how Minerva – had protected her from it.

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?"

"Of course you can."

They parted and Hermione wiped her face, looking away shamefully. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Hermione," Minerva said suddenly serious, "you are far more important than anything I could be doing. I'm glad you came to me. We can talk about it if you like."

The younger witch shook her head.

"What about in the morning?" She cupped Hermione's face with one hand lovingly, her brows knitted together in worry. "You can stay here tonight and tomorrow you can tell me everything."

Hermione nodded after a moment. She felt a burst of affection. She wanted to tell her she loved her, but instead she said lamely, "I'm just tired now."

"Okay."

An arm encircled her waist and she allowed herself to be led through the office into the bedroom where their earlier altercation had happened. Bile rose in her throat, but Minerva rubbed her back. There was no sign of what had occurred anywhere. The windows and mirror were in one piece again and the floor was clean. Everything was in its place, neat and private.

"Lie down and I'll get you some of that potion and a glass of water."

Letting go of Minerva's side, Hermione sat on the edge of the queen size bed which had a tartan blanket on top of its duvet. She felt sick and her throat was raw and as soon as she sat down exhaustion took hold. Slipping her feet under the sheets, she waited a minute until her friend returned, a flask in one hand and a glass in the other and sat beside her.

"Did you already have it?" Hermione asked about the potion, trying to divert attention from her puffy eyes and wet nose. She took a mouthful and made a face.

"Poppy is going home for the weekend, so she gave me some in case you needed a refill."

Hermione nodded and gratefully accepted the water. She put the rest of it on the nightstand and let Minerva stroke her hair. "Thank you."

The older woman smiled, "I'm just glad you're okay." Her green eyes were filled with compassion and adoration and it made Hermione's chest ache. "I'll be sleeping in my office if you need me."

"No, wait." Hermione flinched at the neediness in her voice. One hand reached out to the other's arm. "Please stay."

"Hermione, I can't." Minerva continued to strok her hair softly.

"It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." She was already beginning to slur, the potion working immediately. She felt exposed looking up, but she continued, "I'd feel much safer if you were here."

Minerva hesitated, but inclined her head forward. She felt responsible and wanted to right her mistakes. "Okay. Just for tonight."

"Thank you."

The other woman stood and moved around the bed while Hermione lay back. Her eyes were already closing as she felt the bed lower beneath new weight. She was still afraid of her nightmares despite knowing she couldn't dream and now she had a new thing to fear- herself. At least with her friend here she knew she was protected.

Lying on her side, head propped up on her hand, Minerva watched the girl fall asleep like she had dozens of times before, but this time she stayed.

A/N: We've reached critical angst, Captain! Thanks again for everyone who commented. It really makes my day. In the next chapter we'll finally get to hear Minerva's side of the story. And don't worry, this is definitely the dark before the dawn.

I encourage anyone who is contemplating suicide to find a friend you can always call to talk to and to keep a crisis line phone number on hand.


	20. Intentions

For the first time in a week, sunlight filtered through curtains and fell onto Hermione's features. The sun moved at a snail's pace, but it was some time before she opened her eyes, disoriented by the light. For a minute she couldn't remember where she was or why she was there. It was blissful until her scarred arm pulsed in discomfort, her memory returning in a clump of confusion. She sat up quickly and stared around. The room was immaculate, not a sock out of place, heightening the awareness that she did not belong there. Swearing out loud, she pushed the blankets back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as she stood, a dizzy spell made her sway, prompting her sit for minute. She hadn't eaten in days and her body was punishing her for it.

She braced herself on the nightstand and rose unsteadily. Glancing out the window, she noted that the sun was hanging high in the sky, indicating the late hour. She must've slept in and she had so much school work to catch up on, not to mention she owed Minerva an explanation for demanding to sleep in her room the way she did. The thought of what had happened caused a pang of distress. She didn't understand what had come over her. That sadness could become so overwhelming as to lead someone to hurt themself was something she had ever understood. Until now.

Minerva wasn't in the bedroom, so Hermione slowly made her way to the door that led to her office. She didn't really want to face her yet, so she hoped the teacher was with a class so she could sneak out. No such luck. Opening the door, the first thing she saw was the headmistress at her desk, a quill in hand. The woman turned around at the sound of the door and nodded in greeting.

"I didn't want to wake you. I brought you some breakfast. It should still be warm."

Hermione looked at the plate on the desktop hungrily, but held back. "What time is it?"

"Almost mid-day. Don't worry about your classes. I've already explained the situation to your other teachers." If she was annoyed, the headmistress hid it well; her face was blank and her eyes were gentle.

"You have?" Hermione couldn't supress her embarrassment at the thought that everyone knew about her… mishap, but Minerva quelled it with a small smile and a nod.

"I told them you're sick. They've put aside your work, but you don't have to force yourself. I'd rather you get well first."

"But I'm not sick." She moved from the doorway to the seat on the other side of the desk. She didn't want special consideration for school. She just wanted to be able to do the work like she should.

"You are. You have an illness and I intend to do whatever it takes to help. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Hermione took the plate of eggs and toast so she had something else she could concentrate on. After a minute she spoke again. "I'm sorry."

Putting the quill and whatever she was working on aside, the older woman didn't look surprised at all. "You didn't do anything wrong, my darling."

She kept her eyes down and her voice low. "I burst in last night and put all my issues onto you. You shouldn't have to deal with that crap." She flinched slightly at the curse, but Minerva didn't react.

"You don't need to apologise, Hermione. You did the right thing by coming to me." She looked away for a moment. "It's me who should be sorry for everything that's happened. For hurting you and not being able to protect you when you needed it." Minerva's voice cracked and Hermione watched her as she cleared her throat. "I should have been upfront with my intentions from the beginning and I wasn't. What I did was wrong."

Hermione couldn't deny that. She had felt so betrayed. Even now she knew that she was right to be angry, but that emotion seemed to have run its course. Still watching her friend who had lowered her gaze in remorse, she finally asked what she needed to know. "What were your intentions?"

Minerva met her stare, each of them studying the other. "I wanted to look after you. I knew you were in a bad place at the start of the school year and feared you would hurt yourself or worse. I thought if I could be with you at all times that I could stop it from happening, but I just made a bad situation worse."

Hermione was the first to look away, unable to stand it any longer. She knew it in her heart to be true, that Minerva's intentions were good. She also knew that she would have been worse off without the cat to anchor her. "You did help me," she admitted in a controlled voice, "I think if the cat hadn't been there – if you hadn't been there – that maybe what happened last night would have already happened. But you're right. You should have just told me you were worried." She furrowed her brow and looked up again. "I told you things that I wouldn't have otherwise. You lied to me."

McGonagall's eyes were full of regret she didn't try to conceal. For the first time Hermione was seeing her without all her guards up. "I know. Believe me, if I could take it back, I would have done things differently, but by the time I knew that it was wrong it was too late. You had grown too attached and I couldn't just tell you the truth or stopped outright." Minerva sighed. "I was afraid you would hurt yourself if I did."

It was eerie seeing Minerva as an emotional human being. Hermione was used to her being in total control. She was grateful not to be the only vulnerable one. She placed the plate back on the desk. She had eaten what little she could.

After a few seconds, she began to summarise, "Finding out the truth really hurt me."

"I know."

"And it was wrong."

"Yes."

She took a breath. "But I think I understand why you did it, even if I'm not ready to forgive you."

She bit her lip and looked worried. She could see that this hurt Minerva, but it was the truth and she didn't want any more lies between them. In time she would forgive her with all her heart, but they'd have to work towards that together.

"I understand." They sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two. They both knew what topic had to be broached next and Hermione was hesitant to bring it up. She didn't have to. "Will you tell me about last night?" The question was followed by more silence.

"I don't know what happened," Hermione started slowly. She didn't want to talk about it, but she had to. She was afraid talking about it would prompt the sadness to grow. Trying to distance herself emotionally from the words, she started again and spoke quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. "I don't know why it happened. I got upset. I was… shaken up by finding out about you, but that wasn't the only reason why. It just added to what was already there. I was afraid and angry and sad at the same time and I can deal with those emotions on their own, but they became one big bundle. It was too much. I cracked." Her words were a flurry. "I saw a way out from all the pain inflicted on me and the pain I inflicted on you. It seemed like the only possible solution to an unending number of problems." She swallowed when she felt finished and looked up timidly.

Minerva was nodding deliberately, her hands clasped on the desk. She seemed to be processing the words, but she spoke after a while. "I'm glad you came to me for help. You did the right thing. It shows real strength of character."

Hermione objected in a low voice, but the emotion built. "I wasn't strong. I was weak. I gave in to the sadness and then I couldn't follow through with that."

"But it takes a lot of strength to resist when the urge is so strong. You sought help instead and I am so proud of you for that."

She faltered, not sure what to make of it. For a fleeting moment she felt a trace amount of anger that Minerva was assuming to know, but it faded as quickly as it came. "What do you know about it?" She asked, keeping her voice soft and as unemotional as she could.

Minerva took a breath. There was so much compassion in her eyes as well as something else. Something familiar. Sadness. "There was a time when I had to fight the same demons as you. It was some time ago, but I remember how hard that pull to surrender can be."

Hermione paused as she marvelled. Minerva was the strongest person she knew, always had been the most resilient. Today she was seeing her at her most vulnerable. She was being trusted with Minerva's emotions and history. "What happened?"

Minerva inclined her head slightly, choosing her words carefully. She wanted to show Hermione she trusted her completely by telling her what she hadn't told anyone. Hermione could see she was struggling. "I was a little older than you. It was a difficult period of time with Voldemort rising to power." She looked up again, her face strangely serene. "I was working with the department of Magical Law Enforcement and during an altercation was hit with a cruciatus curse. I had been pregnant." She seemed so distant that Hermione could believe it was someone else's story. "I lost the baby and if it wasn't for Albus I would have lost my life by my own hand."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione breathed. She couldn't imagine how that would have been. By comparison her pain seemed trivial. "That's terrible."

Minerva waved it off. Like flipping a switch, she was once again the stony gazed teacher Hermione had always known. She spoke matter-of-factly as she rose from her seat. "It was a long time ago. It's partially because of my own experience that I thought it was important for me to be there for you at all times."

Hermione was at a loss for words. She wanted to tell her friend how brave she was, how selfless and wonderful, but they seemed to have moved past that. "Thank you."

They shared a smile before Minerva walked around the desk, completely back to business. "The first thing we're going to do is retrieve your belongings. I don't want you staying by yourself, just in case. I'll have a bed set up for you in the Gryffindor dormitory."

"No," Hermione stood suddenly, eyes wide. "Please, I don't want anyone to find out there's something wrong with me."

Minerva gave a comforting smile and came close to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You underestimate your friends, my darling."

"It's not just my friends I'm worried about. Besides, I have you."

The hand on her shoulder moved to stroke her hair. It was reassuring, as were her words. "You do have me, you always will, but you need others as well. Can't you talk to Miss Weasley or Lovegood?"

Hermione paused, savouring the hand untangling her hand. "I can talk to Harry for now, but I still don't want to stay with the other students. They'll realise something's wrong."

Minerva nodded sympathetically. "Then what will we do about your sleeping arrangements? I don't want you to be alone at night, at least for a few days."

Hermione wanted to hold the other witch's hand against her face, but she resisted. "I can stay here," she said. It seemed the most logical solution. "It's just until I go back to my room and I can sleep out here."

The older woman looked uncertain. She was struggling to decide what would be best and her hand settled on Hermione's shoulder. "Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Of course," Hermione's face lightened. "It's the safest I've ever felt."

Minerva tensed her jaw but nodded slowly. "It's just until I know you're not in any danger."

"Okay."

"Well, we ought to collect your things. I'm interested in finding out where you've been sleeping these past nights." She began to move towards the door, her hand resting on Hermione's back. "While we're at it, you can tell me how you figured it out. It took me quite by surprise."

Minerva hadn't seen the map, or at least hadn't known what it was without her glasses. Hermione smiled to herself. "I might tell you some day, but not today."

A/N: I thought I had already uploaded this. Evidently not. I hope your holidays were okay.


	21. Numbness

When they left to retrieve Hermione's belongings, her in her pyjamas and Minerva in her green tartan robes, she forced herself to remain calm. Every step closer to the room where she had almost lost everything made it harder to breathe. One hand was curled into a fist and the other loosely gripped on to the long sleeve of McGonagall's robe like a child might hold onto their mother's skirt. She could feel her friend cast furtive glances her way but she kept her face as neutral as possible. This shouldn't be difficult, but somehow she was more afraid to see the broken mirror than she had been while searching for horcruxes. She wished Harry were there. Despite struggling to keep her breaths slow and measured, she made it. She paced back and forward and like always the door appeared.

Minerva had known about the Room of Requirement since Hermione and presumably others from Dumbledore's Army had told her, but the surprised look on her face betrayed that she had never seen it for herself. Everyone was in class so there was no one about to see Hermione hesitate, pulling away from the door until Minerva wrapped their hands together.

The mirror was in one piece and the room seemed completely undisturbed, her trunk and book bag sitting on the end of the bed waiting for her. Still, her palm was sweaty against the other woman's hand.

"Is this all there is?" McGonagall asked, motioning towards the trunk.

Hermione nodded, her throat obstructed with fear.

A wave of her wand and the utterance of a spell and the trunk, the books and the small beaded bag were airborne.

"I could have done this myself," Hermione said when they were back in the hallway, although she knew she couldn't have.

"I know, my dear. I was curious, though."

Hermione knew this was also a lie, or at least an excuse.

"Thank you," she said with her eyes cast down. Their hands dropped to their sides again as they could walk, bags trailing behind them.

Hermione was free to spend the day in the Headmistress' office, but it felt like trespassing with Minerva away in classes. Though she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and wither away like she had spent last week that would take her nowhere. Besides, she had so much to do. She was behind in all her classes, had to study for her N.E. (which were only five months away) and she needed to write to Harry. The worry was compounding and she knew if she didn't start today she would never get anything done.

Her mind rallied against her with unhelpful thoughts (_What's the point? I'm a failure anyway)_, but Hermione made it to the library where she laid out the work she had to complete and worked out a time table so that she could catch up on her school work efficiently. By separating her days into smaller study sessions between and after classes she figured she would be able to get on top of her readings within two weeks. Having this done she felt a sense of achievement lighten her fears. _Maybe I can do this._ It was a small accomplishment but once she had finished this she felt like she could manage.

Books set aside, she began composing a letter to Harry. After Minerva's insistence she wanted to tell him how she was (how she really was) without making him worry and without admitting the truth about the cat. It was difficult to put everything on parchment and soon she had a small pile of incomplete drafts building on her desk. Everything she wrote either came out emotionlessly distant or overly sappy and reeking of desperation. She persisted for an hour or so until her frustration swelled into anger and then faded into apathy. She reread the final draft, the library beginning to fill with students, and read it. It wasn't up to par and still read like an essay on some other person, but her mind was tired. If she carried on in the frenzy she had worked herself into it would drive her mad. Not quite satisfied, but no longer caring, she folded it into an envelope and addressed it to Grimauld Place before she could change her mind.

The owlery smelt of its avian occupants and their waste. Rodent bones crunched underfoot as she persuaded a pepper coloured bird from its perch with a treat and tied the letter to its ankle. It pecked at her robe until she fed it a treat usually reserved for Harry's owl and then took flight from the window.

Looking down on the grounds she could see the students playing in the snow which reflected the sun's light so that her eyes hurt. As she watched them she remembered being eleven and relishing snowball fights and bringing snowmen to life. Eight years seemed like a lifetime. Clinging to the stone ledge of the window from which she could easily throw herself if the urge came, Hermione felt almost nothing.

It was quiet up here. Not so much outside (the owls were scuffling and the wind was howling), but in her mind her thoughts had settled. The worrying was still there, about school and Minerva, Harry's reaction to the letter, but they were either things that had no control over or things she now knew she could deal with. The only persistent worry that followed her from the tower was what she would say to Ron. In time she wanted to fix their relationship. They had gone through so much together and even if she no longer wanted to be romantically involved with him she didn't want to throw away a decade of friendship. He hadn't trusted her when he should have, but neither had she. He'd had evidence to support his paranoia and she had ignored it completely. Still, he should have known she would never intentionally hurt him.

As she walked, Hermione ran through some scenarios in her head of how she would tell him the truth about the year. The cold usually helped to clear her mind so while she thought she headed for the entrance hall. She knew she wanted to talk to Ron in person and that the easiest time would be while he was visiting Ginny and Fred. She pictured them sitting in the Three Broomsticks. If Ron would sit with her long enough she could rely on his stony silence to allow her to talk.

Hermione felt the change from warm indoors to freezing temperature like a cleansing splash of water. She shoved her hands into her pockets and continued to wander. The snow was beginning to melt, mixing with dirt leaving a brown mush that clung to her shoes. She followed the path that led down to the herbology greenhouses and turned towards the lake. Benches situated around the water's edge were inviting and she chose one far enough away from other people so that she was alone with her thoughts.

The crisp air cleared her head and the chill in her gloveless fingers gave her something to focus on. Something to feel. She relaxed into the seat, the wood cold against her back and let her mind wander. Her thoughts absently slipped from Ron to Harry's reaction to her letter and onto what her parents were doing at that moment, and she felt a lurch of sadness. The numbness threatened to give way to pain. Like summoning a patronus, she thought of the thing that made her happy. She envisioned Minerva, her strength and beauty, her lips on Hermione's forehead, her lips on Hermione's lips… A warmth filled her chest when she thought how their lives had intertwined, how she wanted them to intertwine further.

"You're smiling again. That's a relief."

Startled out of her reverie, Hermione turned towards the voice, her fingers pressed to her upturned lips. She hadn't noticed her expression, but now she felt it sliding off.

Ginny had her red hair tied back and a hand on her hip. She was grinning that lopsided Weasley grin that reminded Hermione of the twins. They hadn't spoken much outside of their shared classes during this very trialling week but she knew she couldn't run from her forever.

"You seemed down in the dumps for a while there. Good to see you're back to normal."

Hermione stayed silent. She couldn't tell her that she far from better or how just how 'down in the dumps' she had been. To make up for the lack of an answer she asked, "How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you walking this way earlier. Just thought I'd see how you're doing." Hermione had moved so her friend could sit beside her, but the Weasley girl walked closer to the water and picked up a fistful of rocks. "I heard you and Ron really got into it when he was here. He's pretty pissed at you."

Clasping her cold hands between her thighs, Hermione watched as the first stone whizzed through the air and hit the water with a satisfying splash. "What did Harry tell you?"

"Nothing. He was pretty hush-hush about the whole thing but Ron's been writing me and told George a bunch of stuff who passed on more info."

She braced herself. "What exactly did he say?"

"Not a lot that made sense. I think he's still upset about you leaving more than anything."

"I didn't leave him. He left me. By owl, remember?" Everything Hermione had been thinking about Ron before was being replaced by annoyance at him and his big mouth.

Another whiz and splash. "But you did come back to school without him."

"He could have come too if it really mattered that much to him."

"I know." Ginny turned and shrugged apologetically, "He was kind of a jerk about the whole thing." She paused until she didn't get a response, "Do you think the two of you will kiss and make up?"

Hermione thought for a second as the other girl went back to hurling rocks. "No. Not like that. I'd like to go back to being friends, though."

There was a minute of silence filled with the rattle of stones and the plunk of them hitting the water before Ginny spoke again. "So is it true what he said about you and McGonagall?"

She groaned. If Ron kept shooting his mouth off it would eventually end up in the Daily Prophet. "No, it's not."

"You two have been pretty close with Christmas and everything. Don't get me wrong. I won't judge you. You're my friend and you deserve to be with someone who isn't a dick. Even if they are like a hundred years old." Ginny tossed the last of her rocks into the water and turned around, sticking her hands in her robe pockets. "I mean if she makes you happy then that's pretty much all that matters, right?"

Hermione paused. "Right."

More silence followed as Ginny picked up another blue-grey pebble from the shore and sent it spinning.

"It's still not true, though," Hermione said, more as a reminder to herself. Minerva did make her happy, but it was also an impossible dream. Right?

Ginny dropped into the seat beside Hermione and slung one arm around her shoulders. She was warm and comfortable. "So are you coming to see us hand Hufflepuff their asses on the pitch this week? It'll be fun."

Hermione forced herself out of deep thought and slipped on a placating smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

A/N: I'm very sorry about taking so long. This chapter was a pain in the ass to write. I had four versions saved on my computer and ended up gluing them all together. I also had a serious breakdown a couple of weeks ago and had to take a week-long sabbatical from pretty much everything to put my head in order. Hopefully I'll be back to a posting more often. Thanks for everything.


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